Bleeding for Heaven
by JonathanKonopka
Summary: A homage to the Dark Souls franchise, featuring brutal fights, surreal adventures, and multiple subplots planned to eventually merge towards the finale. Each subplot has its own title and part number, which will end and so lead to the next subplot, but none are finished yet. The story features a new curse and a new kind of enemy after Dark covers the world.
1. Prologue - Hesychasm

_Cover art "Despair" by Ilyas Phaizulline_

 **Prologue**

 **Hesychasm**

Silence, peace, mystery, and freedom are all waiting in blackness. Darkness is the elixir of that curse known as life. Considering so much failure, suffering, defeat, and loss, and hatred of loss, perhaps sentient beings were hollow to begin with. The souls of kings and cobblers are cast from the same mould, and at least in death, all are equal, as that warden Agdayne would surely agree to.

Long ago, Demons were born from the Bed of Chaos, and so all Demons come from that failure to save the First Flame, but this only applies to the world they were born in. But, there are many demons, from many other realms, from realms that normally would not be connected to one another. There is something much older than Lothric, older than Drangleic, even much older than Lordran, and it does not stop there. It precedes the Age of Fire, precedes the Ancient Lords, precedes the Disparity of Dark and Light, even precedes the Everlasting Dragons.

Only time can be more ancient, but surely, before time existed, only timeless forces could exist, or at least forces capable of a timeless reality. Truly nothing exists without a struggle of some kind. Light and Dark, Life and Death, Love and Hate, Legends and Failures. And then, the classic: Heaven and Hell. The only two forces that can exist independently from time, timeless eternities where past, present and future are nonexistent. But Heaven is sealed from the mortal realm, and Hell is always clawing at the mortal world, always trying to find a way to engulf souls and memories in eternal torture.

Heaven and Hell are infinitely more ancient than Lothric, Drangleic, and Lordran, and the founders of those places, and even the creators of the world those places belonged to. Heaven and Hell have left permanent marks in all sentient beings who walk the world, so well hidden, they have always been unnoticed. Constantly waiting for the best time to rise in many realms throughout many realities, Hell has an insatiable appetite for suffering, always eager to eat new flesh, drink new blood, proclaim new souls for its own celebration: the hell of hells.

Hell has always been working to destroy the powers of this world, to destroy the forces of Dark and Light, to break the Curse, overcome the Darksign, defeat Chaos, to collect all souls and memories, solely to induce everlasting suffering, having always been around since the very moment this world came into being. Not even the Everlasting Dragons could have sensed it, though they did overcome it in their timeless state. But, Hell will do all it can to reach its goal, to devour its victims alive in body, mind, memory and soul, craving the souls, memories, flesh and blood of all humans, Giants, Golems, Demons, dragons, monsters, and anything and everything that can feel pain.

Nevertheless, there are always heroes who stand for their world against anything no matter the odds or hardships. Heroes who should be legends, who will never be remembered. Heroes who will never be celebrated. Heroes who will die as faceless victims. Heroes whose actions will never be honoured. Heroes that deserve Heaven who instead receive Hell. Heroes who are destined to die no matter how much they dedicate their lives to power. Heroes who will fall no matter how much they willingly sacrifice themselves to end what horrors and atrocities await within their defeat.

But, their faith and love of their world and its adventures leads them to walk that road of destiny through Disparity, a road that many, many heroes of Lordran, Drangleic, and Lothric, have accepted without even blinking in the face of inevitable doom. Only such nameless heroes, of nameless times, from nameless worlds, serve as the disparity that is Heaven and Hell.


	2. Unbeliever - Dogma

**Unbeliever, part 1**

 **Dogma**

Flames surrounded a solar eclipse, forming a Darksign in the sky. Though the sky was black, as if nighttime, it was coated with so much Dark that not even starlight or sunlight could pierce it enough to illuminate the land below. From within the never-ending blackness, the Darksign for a sun was visible, a constant reminder to those drowned in the darkness of what once was. Behold, the land of promise.

The silhouette of the land at least showed some signs of the remains of a civilization. The numerous Gothic homes and streets, the Church of Yorshka, the Catalan Gothic architecture, Anor Londo, and the rest of the Irithyll of the Boreal Valley, were all in ruins. Many Hollows wandered throughout the black streets, aimlessly and weakly, while feeling and hearing the gnawing of teeth. The Dark, how much its endless gaze shredded the flesh and minds of the undead, and how much they must have wailed in despair, for as bad as everything was, it was only going to get much worse.

Hanging from the sky, as if suspended from the ocean of floating Dark, were chains. The chains had a mechanical appearance, not consisting of round links, but resembling roller chains, with each part consisting of a blade, hook, spike, or some other gnarly feature. These roller chains hanging from the sky varied in size, with some clusters of hanging chains denser than others. The mechanical chains swayed side to side on their own, the ends sometimes curling upwards or sideways. Peculiarly, the machinery appeared to have veins integrated in grooves, and so many were dripping red blood everywhere.

There was one peculiar mass of intertwining roller chains, so dense it formed an upside-down tree-like shape hanging from the sky, the lengths of machinery sliding in and out of themselves as if the arms of an octopus. This mass of machinery was constantly leaking blood, and sometimes, streams of fire and smoke bellowed out here and there.

The mass of machinery gradually unfolded, and few by few, the parts began to hiss from heat, and soon became red-hot. A figure slowly emerged from the bottom of the column, as if the machinery was giving birth to something, smoke and fire bursting out the opening for a few seconds.

The birthed figure appeared to be a skinless devilish creature, looking like a small bipedal dragon, with tendrils of glowing-hot machinery integrated into its skeleton, muscles and veins, causing its blood to boil and flesh to sizzle. Pistons, gears, pivots, rotaries, springs, and chains intermingled with the muscles, joints and ligaments as well. The figure was constantly bleeding, burning, boiling, and smoking, but emerged headfirst nonetheless, immediately flipping around midair and flapping its wings, hovering on the spot.

The hovering creature had lungs like a set of mechanical bellows within its rib cage, and the beast breathed as if a furnace; indeed, his chest was box-like and in shape of a furnace, flames and smoke always fuming out the bottom of his ribs as well as out his mouth, empty eye sockets, and nasal cavity.

The beast appeared classically devilish, being nine feet tall, head bearing a set of horns that protruded from the temples and curved upwards for two feet, bat-like wings behind the shoulders with a wingspan of twenty feet, a ten-foot long tapering tail that ended as a metal spike, and his knuckles, knees, and elbows had metal studs sticking out of them. His teeth, claws and talons were metal blades. He had steel rings along the edges of his wings, which ringed as he flapped them.

The monster's body was always regrowing, only to be fried by the red-hot mechanical interior until becoming crispy bits that fluttered off his body. His body constantly dripped boiling blood, but the blood was always steaming as well. He was quite an unusual, mysterious being, with a past and origin that came from another time and place.

Despite his overwhelmingly tortured appearance, he flapped his wings casually, limbs bent slightly but still loose, and he licked his teeth with a surprisingly fleshy tongue. Although not having eyeballs, he scanned his environment anyways, blazing bloody body serving a fleshy living lantern. Even beyond the shining of his flaming body, he could see ember-like glows throughout the streets, but did not know what it was.

"Where am I? How I got here?" the creature asked with a loud voice sounding like a guttural furnace, his speech causing more blood, smoke and fire to burst out his mouth. Upon speaking, his heart began beating audibly, his lungs pumped as if a furnace breathing, his internal machinery started clicking and wheezing, and even the blood in his veins audibly flowed. He seemed to be a self-sufficient mechanoid of some kind, of which his own blood and vaporizing blood served as fuel for himself. But was he a machine, or a living body? Or something in-between? Or something else entirely?

Fire, smoke, blood and steam flowing out his mouth, eye sockets, and rib cage, the beast looked down upon the streets, cocked his head, and then suddenly dove down, to see what he could see. His flaming body revealed a section of streets below him, as well as reveal some lengths of chains suspended from the sky.

The Hollows wandered with glowing eyes, which were always visible in the shadows, but their veins also appeared to be flaming, as if the Darksign coursed through their veins, causing all their blood to glow like fire. This was especially visible in the veins in the eyeballs, so much so, that the eyes beamed tiny flaming lights forth up to several inches, allowing them to see.

But what was there to see? The Hollows lost their minds, not only because of the Curse, but also because of their desire: to kill. Wherever the Hollows wandered, every time they glanced upon one another, they would immediately fight, grabbing, scratching, biting, chewing, spitting, eye-gouging, and hating everything and everyone, but also hating themselves, for hatred and violence were their only thoughts. All the streets echoed with the sounds of moaning, screeching, scraping, peeling, ripping, exhaling, gurgling, slurping, eating, and shivering.

Those who hated themselves more than others resorted to chewing on their arms, biting off skin, flesh, muscles and veins, and then eating them. Some clawed at their own eyes until plucking them out to eat them, but the Darksign remained around their eye sockets. Others kept pushing their fingers into their bullies to make holes until their guts popped out, then they would grab armfuls of intestines, feeling the warm slippery organs shaking in their arms, and then chewing on them. They continued eating until they could pluck out a bladder, a kidney, a spleen, a liver, and soon felt the food plopping within their rib cage or onto their hips.

Despite the practise of self-cannibalization, most Hollows preferred to inflict ineffective torturous procedures unto others, but some simply hid away from the world, in whatever way they could, or simply jumped off the towers of the churches headfirst to kill themselves. No matter, for they are born through death, to repeat the orgy of cannibalism and macabre, awaiting the next life to feel their cold flesh torn off bones and continuing the buffet.

Most homes had Hollows nailed into the wood, and then other Hollows would use knives, biting or clawing to skin the nailed victim, and then put them on fire. Small fires were made here and there, body parts, bones, broken furniture, and chunks of homes used as fuel. Even beyond the light of the fires and the devil's blazing form, he saw that the streets glimmered, and realized that the streets were always running with blood, blood not his own.

The bloody streets now served as an aqueduct, but the blood of the Hollows, as already mentioned, had the texture of glowing embers, streaks of the fiery glowing visible in the flowing blood throughout the streets. The fiery eyes and veins of the Hollows, and their orgy of butchery and cannibalism, served as lighting to some extent, but being without eyes, the devil could not care, but he could sense his surroundings, and imagine them in his head as they would be in real life.

"This world is weak." the creature said to himself, and then he folded his wings and plummeted down, landing on the side of a cathedral with a thud causing blood to spatter everywhere, and perched as if a cat, knees bent completely, chest resting on his knees, and curling his tail around himself. His boiling blood leaked down the surface of the cathedral like a little waterfall, and even began melting something, ice?

At the thought of ice, the devil turned to the side and leaned over, and indeed, ice coated the buildings. The ice then began cracking and popping due to the devil's red-hot mechanical body parts, which also meant he was always on fire. The devil faced forwards, inhaled strongly, held his breath, and then exhaled as if blowing out a candle, dropping his gaze, shoulders, and wings. For a few seconds, his body's machinery, heart, lungs, and veins stopped working, even the fire ceasing, and then it all came back minimally, just a fraction of its former activity. The monster lifted his chin.

"I am the first." he said to himself, "I am the first, the first self-perpetuating immortal of this world. I think, yes, I am thinking, thinking about how this world works..." he continued, in deep thought, imagining the concepts and features of this strange land. He could sense souls, and relive memories of those souls, and through all of that, he began to learn of this world.

He thought the memories of many adventurers, seeing images of dungeons, a giant black crow, a giant eagle, fires of bones, mighty cities, strange underworlds of wood, a cleric of stone armour, dragons, a Gorgon queen bathing in poison holding her own head, a warrior in purple armour who had lost his own head, many knights, miracles, someone called Chosen Undead, a castle filled with lava, gigantic serpents with faces like men, a giant white tiger of a snowy land, a giant wolf who once fought twice against abyssal evil, a sky filled with huge dragons defeated by bolts, Golems who had destroyed a kingdom, a swamp of giant crabs, an ancient fortress filled with traps and serpentine men, a giant kingly zombie walking in circles, and a charred man who found a little flame.

"Dark, souls..." the devilish mechanoid said to himself, not knowing what else to say, but what he did say, seemed to fit everything in his visions. "The dark souls, are mine. I own them. They belong to me. I am the one and only true dark soul. All these dark souls, they are weak, they are white and soulless, neither dark nor soulful. I am the first immortal, the dark souls are mine. The weaklings do not feel pain as I do. They suffer from everything, wandering in darkness as mindless objects, unable to feel the full potential of suffering. But pain... it has a soul, a soul in me." he continued, talons gripping the edge of the cathedral so tightly they scraped against the stone.

The devil stood up slowly, and looked around. Considering his body's state, and the absolute absence of suffering, indeed, he had a right to criticize this world. He felt incredible pain, always burning, always boiling, always frying, always bleeding, always skinless, always breathing flames, fumes and smoke; what else could be added to the plethora of pain?

"I am the first!" the devil shouted eagerly, blood and fire bursting out his mouth as he spoke, standing upright and spreading his arms and wings, voice echoing over the Hollows suffering and squirming down below. "I am the only one and true bearer of a truly dark soul. I am darker than the Dark, deeper than the Deep, more fiery than Flame, more accursed than the Curse, more destructive than all the kings and queens, and I am the first!" the devil continued excitedly, to no audience that would ever care or even be able to understand.

Taking a short break, the mechanical devil dropped back down to his hands and talons, resting like a gargoyle, and then opened his mouth as much as he could, head twitching, and he writhed upwards while as if in a spasm, bones and machinery popping and cracking. The chains hanging from the sky nearby him began swaying with greater vigour.

"And Lothric, your inhabitants will be my first subjects. I will bring them back from the dead, resurrecting them with flesh and blood anew, and they will experience their agony with greater feeling and emotion, with a complete mind. The dark souls are mine, I will make them feel as my own likeness, and give them a new curse: my insatiable addiction to suffering. I will give them the hell of hells!" the devil shouted. "Welcome, to the new hell."


	3. Unbeliever - Streets

**Unbeliever, part 2**

 **Streets**

A lone Lothric Knight walked down a street, the pupils of his eyes glowing red and beamed out his closed visor, so much that the light trailed along his frame whenever he moved quickly. Such knights stood at perhaps seven feet tall or more. He was cap-a-pied in plate armour, including faulds, wearing a large closed helm, the front of the armpits covered by a besagues, and wore a red cape and red sleeveless tabard with gold linings and an emblem on the front. In his hands he carried a Lothric Knight Greatshield, a large metal scutum with brass edges, light blue front, and engraved with symbolism of some kind, and a Lothric Knight Long Spear, a spear perhaps eight feet long and with red feathers under the spearhead.

Sheathed at the left side of his sword-belt was a Lothric Knight Sword, the sheath blue, and sheathed at his other side was a rondel dagger. Beside the dagger was a broad metal ring, with the shaft of a war hammer dropped through so that it hung by its head against the ring.

A Lothric Knight Greatsword was slung over the shoulder, having a length of chain at either end of the cross-guard. The greatsword was quite huge, having a broad blade, a wide central fuller, and a very short crossguard for a greatsword. A Lothric Knight Shield was also slung over the shoulder and hanging above the greatsword; a large, tall kite shield made of metal engraved with gold symbolism on the front.

The Lothric Knight walked rather slowly, as if not wanting to, his sabatons stepping in the blood flowing everywhere along the streets, splashing it a bit wherever he went, and the bottom of his cape drenched in blood. He sometimes looked side to side, always hearing the Hollows ripping into one another, eating one another or themselves, cindered veins and eyes flickering in the ocean of Dark, but none dared even look at a knight. The knight did not care about the Hollows; no matter what they did, he never viewed them as an enemy. He passed through a mass of chains hanging from the sky, some of which reached the ground here and there, the chains swaying and clinking against his armour.

However, something felt different. The Lothric Knight turned his head, overhearing footfall behind him. Although too dark to see fully, he knew there was a silhouette of something following him. The ember-textured blood flowing throughout the streets offered just enough fiery light to reveal the silhouette when it bent over. The knight stopped and turned around, staring through his visor.

The silhouette turned out to be some sort of creature the Lothric Knight had never seen before. The creature appeared to be a skinless fleshy golem-like being, but it had lengths of roller chains, copper thread, laminated rods, and various small mechanical parts along its nervous system and skeleton. The fleshy chain-infused monster was quite huge, perhaps nine feet tall and heavily muscled, having a large head, but absent of eye sockets, ears, nose, cheeks and lips; the skull did not have any external feature except the mouth. The beast had large jaws and teeth like gorillas.

The fleshy golem put its hands down, every finger having an additional joint and so quite long, fingers ending in tapering curved bones instead of fingernails or claws, and the red bodily fluid rushed through its hands. The monster and the knight held their ground, staying still.

"So, do you want to fight, or what?" the Lothric Knight asked with a deep, rich voice, as would be expected from such a big noble. He placed the butt of his spear down and the bottom rim of his greatshield down suddenly, thudding against the bloody walkway audibly.

The fleshy monster cocked its head but did nothing. Being so meaty, obviously attracted attention, and several Hollows charged it, bare feet splatting against the blood, leaping upon it and digging their teeth and fingers in its body. The monster at first made no reaction, but then opened its mouth and stood up, and immediately charged into the stonework of a nearby home, movement kicking the flowing blood everywhere, most Hollows falling off of its body, but two remained; when the fleshy monster jumped its back into the stonework, it crushed the Hollows against it, their bodies cracking from impact.

Instantly, the fleshy monster spun around and began stomping upon the two Hollows he crushed against the stonework, heels and bone-tipped extra-jointed long toes pulverizing their bodies, cracking their bones, and bursting their skin apart as if they were blood-filled leathery balls.

The monster then leapt on two other undead picking themselves up, who had fallen off itself before slamming itself into the stonework, slamming its heels into their abdomens to keep them down, each foot on either Hollow. Both zombies sat up, screeching, the weight and force of the monster's feet having pushed apart their pelvises and caused their guts to bulge out. Bending over to lower itself, the fleshy monster grasped the two Hollows' necks, and squeezed with such strength their necks cracked and then snapped within seconds; all they could do was grab the mighty wrists at their necks until their heads were ripped off their shoulders.

Spinning around while exhaling angrily, the monster threw the two heads, one after the other, at the other Hollows, who ran away. The fleshy monster chased them, moving like an ape with its knuckles and feet, disappearing into an alley. A second later, undead screeched and the sounds of pounding, ripping and heavy breathing followed. The monster crawled out the alley once it became quiet, and slowly prowled towards the knight, who did absolutely nothing this entire time. The knight huffed.

"Anyone can kill a bunch of Hollows, even with their bare hands." he assured, then lifted his greatshield and couched his spear, defensively prepared. The fleshy monster crawled towards him without haste, licking the blood flowing down the streets every now and then.

The Lothric Knight was about to step forth, but could not walk; another fleshy monster had snuck behind him, wrapping its arms around his greaves, pulling backwards strongly, and so causing him to fall forwards. Immediately, the second fleshy monster mounted the tripped knight from behind, pushing its hands down against the back of his pauldrons, and then began repeatedly headbutting the back of the knight's helm.

The knight tried to free himself, but being fully armoured, equipped with so many weapons, and having a nine-foot tall semi-mechanical flesh-golem on his back, there was too much weight upon him. His closed helm protected him from the headbutting, but he still felt the blunt force trauma. Unable to do much, all he could do was nudge his helm backwards, to headbutt the rear of his helm back at the fleshy monster. Going onto his knuckles and knees while still holding onto his spear and shield, the knight worked on freeing himself, but the fleshy monster refused to let go of him. He would be stuck for quite a while.

Crawling passed the struggle, the first fleshy monster went along as if nothing happened. It was not long until four Hollows appeared, seemingly materializing out of thin air, these Hollows wearing nothing but some rags, having lots of frizzy black hair, and armed with claymores. They raised their claymores and swung them downwards at the fleshy monster, who skipped sideways and rolled out of the way. It then immediately dove into the legs of two of the zombies, movement splashing blood from the street, clamping its jaws onto the hip of one while wrapping its arms around legs, thrashing the two Hollows side to side vigorously until they fell down.

The two other Hollows still standing raised their claymores again, intending to swing them, and that was when the fleshy monster, arms still wrapped around the two zombies, lifted them and moved into the two other Hollows still standing, their claymores carelessly hitting their own kin. Avalanching over the standing undead who groaned from that, all four were now off their feet and splashed into the bloody ground, one with his hip still inside the monster's mouth. The fleshy monster tightened its jaws, teeth shattering the hip, and spat it out.

Before the Hollows could pick themselves up, the monster started stomping and pummelling its fists into the zombies, mashing their bodies without too much trouble. The Hollows moaned and made high-pitched gurgling noises as the undead often did, and they were beaten to a bloody pulp, what else was there to say? The last one to be killed had the front half of its head bit off the rest of the skull, the hair left alone, too.

The fleshy monster finished its work, and to make sure the Hollows were deactivated, started chewing on their skulls. It felt warmth beneath itself, the blood even steaming, so the monster looked down, wondering what was happening. It moved its faceless and eyeless head down low, until the fleshy skull touched the flowing blood, and then a pillar of fire erupted out the ground, with such force, that it hurled the monster up several feet into the air, but also splashed blood everywhere and blasted the four Hollows off somewhere. The monster landed on all fours like a cat.

The sudden expansion of fire from nowhere was obviously magic cast by a Fire Witch, the magic consisting of a smokeless blast that erupted upwards, strong enough to throw people around. The Fire Witch herself was quite an immense lady, standing at perhaps twelve feet tall or so, bedecked in gracefully grooved lightly blued plate armour with gilded boarding, and a long skirt underneath the breastplate and backplate. The helmet had an opening at the front that would easily reveal the eyes, nose and cheekbones, but there was just blackness. The visor had a tapering extension that curved backwards from the top. The heavily armoured witch wielded some sort of metal stave tapering to a point, with criss-crossing spikes that seemed to have been hammer-welded onto the shaft near the end, and this device allowed the witch to cast her pyromancy.

After regaining itself, the fleshy monster shook its head and looked at the Fire Witch, who was far into the darkness down the street, but her pyromancy illuminated her surroundings. The blood flowing down the streets helped extinguish the pyromancy, and soon, most of the light went away, but the fleshy monster charged at the Fire Witch's general direction anyways.

Hearing the monster's heavy footfall while splashing blood everywhere, the Fire Witch pointed her stave forwards and slowly waved it across her front, unleashing a torrent of flames, lightning up the area. The fleshy monster leapt through the flames, spreading its arms and legs apart midair.

The Fire Witch did not expect the monster to jump through her magic, but she then just powerfully push-kicked the monster in the head, causing it to flip backwards and hit the ground face-down, impact of the kick also causing her to stagger back a little, even hearing her armour shuffle. Her foot slammed into the stones of the street anyways, splashing blood outwards, and at the same time she drove her polearm downwards, the spikes plunging into the monster's back. The beast grunted, but crawled forth anyways, grabbed the witch's legs, squeezed them together, and then bashed its shoulder into her breastplate while pulling its arms backwards, and so pulling her legs towards himself and tripping her; she fell onto her back.

The Fire Witch held her stave sideways and bashed the middle of it forwards repeatedly into the fleshy monster's face and jaws, hearing the stave clinking against its teeth, so he instinctively clamped his jaws onto the stave. The beast also gripped the stave and pushed forwards, pressing the stave against the witch's gorget. Since she wore armour, she was unharmed, but the fleshy monster did not seem to know what armour was, striking at her with its knees, which did nothing.

The Fire Witch sat up, trying to push the beast back, but it was much stronger than she was. The top of her stave lighted up, spurting fire as the two tried to wrestle one another off, the flames spurting onto a nearby house, melting some snow and ice, and momentarily revealing a few Hollows eating a corpse.

Unable to overpower the fleshy monster, the witch instead relaxed her arms and allowed the monster to push itself forwards suddenly and powerfully, and at the same time, she lifted her legs and kicked both upwards into the beast's abdomen, and so flipped it over herself. The monster twisted midair from surprise, letting go of the stave, landing on its side.

The witch picked herself up, already hearing the monster crawling after her yet again, so she turned around to face the thing and jabbed her stave at its direction, blasting fire upon it. The monster once again jumped through the flames, so the Fire Witch swung her stave sideways, sliding her right hand down the shaft to increase speed and power, and the spikes at the end of the stave hit the monster across the head midair, sticking into its skull and stifling its leaping attack.

Spikes stuck in the skull, the witch held her stave as strong as she could, to maintain the fleshy monster, which grabbed the shaft with one hand and tried to walk forwards. She overheard footfall, sounding like the steps of the Pontiff Knights who often patrolled the area. She sighed with relief, and shouted out to them with a voice like echoing wind, to get their attention.

The Pontiff Knights were extremely tall and lithe skeletal undead, having long white hair, wearing ice-cold partial plate armour, consisting of breastplate, backplate, pauldrons, faulds, tassets, mail beneath their harness, greaves, sabatons, and gauntlets, but the middle of their arms, thighs and heads were left unprotected. They also wore a silly crown in shape of a mitre. Their breastplates were engraved with some swirling imagery, as well as having golden ornamentation riveted to the breastplate and backplate, the golden chain-like decorations going around either pauldron, and the same kind of decoration going around the lower portion of the harness. They tended to be armed with very long curved swords and metallic kite shields, or large scythes, the blades of their swords and scythes having jagged holes in them.

Well, several Pontiff Knights with curved swords and kite shields ran forth to help the Fire Witch, a few of them running through chains hanging from the sky in their way, one of the knights then slipping in the blood and falling down, but was completely ignored by the others. The icy knights empowered their swords with extreme coldness, each blade emanating an icy aura, and they twirled in their fencing, surrounding the fleshy monster and dancing their blades upon it. The curved blades easily cut into the flesh and dashed out blood, as well as froze small parts of the monster's body, the auras unleashing waves of coldness that formed frost in the air.

Without thinking, the fleshy monster pulled its head out the witch's stave spikes and dropped to his hands and feet, feeling the blades dancing along his backside, and he dove into a targeted Pontiff Knight's legs, abruptly ending the knightly ballet. The monster then turned its head sideways and snapped its jaws over the knight's skull, and within a second, shattered the skull in a single bite, for the Pontiff Knights were brittle.

The fleshy monster then darted off, escaping the dancing swords as well as the Fire Witch polearm that just slammed where it used to be at. The beast jumped onto the side of a house, and climbed up it. Once it reached the roof, it looked down. The Fire Witch summoned a column of flames to erupt from under the monster, expecting the fire to appear above the house, but instead it was unleashed within the stone home, flames blasting out the windows, and several Hollows screeching from within. A few Pontiff Knights looked at the Fire Witch, and she just shrugged.

"I thought the fire would explode above the house..." she admitted with a voice like a gentle breeze.

The fleshy monster then ran away on all fours, jumping from house to house, sometimes swinging along the roller chains hanging from the sky, escaping danger just like that. Kneeling at the peak of a home, the monster suddenly stood up and spread its arms, and roared to the sun. Its roar echoed a few times, and similar roars echoed back from various parts of the region.

"Let's go, we will need to unleash Vordt in the direction of the largest group of those beasts, otherwise they will overrun us." the Fire Witch said, gesturing with her helm towards the direction where the most roaring echoed from, and immediately she and a dozen Pontiff Knights jogged through the Dark-filled streets, armours clinking and footfall splashing the blood-covered streets. A few Pontiff Knights looked back at the first fleshy monster as they ran with the witch, but the monster did not seem to care anymore.

The fleshy monster jumped upon a home that was overlooking the Lothric Knight it saw earlier, who was still mounted from behind, repeatedly being headbutted in the back of the helm, much to his annoyance. The fleshy monster's wounds healed quite quickly, its body possessing some form of rapid regeneration.

Down below, the knight could do almost nothing, but by this time, he managed to stand up with his back bent forwards, but the fleshy monster was still on his back, the beast's arms wrapped around his helmet and its legs wrapped around his body armour. Like all other knights of Lothric, this one had steadfastness in his blood, and refused to give-up. He resorted to dropping his shield and spear, which were useless in this situation, and then he withdrew his rondel dagger, stabbing it repeatedly backwards at the damn hindrance slowing him down, but soon gave up. The fleshy monster was trying to strangle him while biting his helm, but the armour was in the way, so both combatants were at an immediate stalemate.

He—very slowly under great weight—walked around a corner of some building, the street gradually slanting up afterwards, revealing a bonfire of burning corpses and wood, with piles of butchered Hollows along the sides or piling against the homes. Heads, arms and legs littered the street, some of which were being gnawed upon by a few Hollows here and there.

Up ahead was a Winged Knight, a giant, fat brute perhaps twelve feet tall and eight feet wide at the hips, whose full plate armour was tailored to match the shape of his wide hulking body, wearing a bright blue tabard over it, the front of the tabard having gilded imagery. The left pauldron was larger than the right, a besagew covered the armpit there, and a length of blue cloth went around it. The brute's helm had a visor in shape of an ugly, smiling face. His backplate had a pair of wings rising upwards, which were small compared to his size.

The giant blubbering knight wielded quite an oversized voulge leaking with freshly spilt blood, had a sheathed sword at his side, and a pair of twin axes at either side of his hips, the axes having been placed through loops of leather hanging at both sides of his belt. The overweight knight had just, apparently, walked to and leaned over the side of a fountain, bonfire of corpses nearby illuminating him, he placing his halberd sideways across the side of the fountain, opening his visor, and drinking some water, his itty-bitty little wings flapping a little.

"I've been spinning too much, I think I'm gonna puke..." the Winged Knight mumbled to himself with a voice so deep and bellowing it was hard to understand, but he did have a lisp to his voice. He did not notice the Lothric Knight waddling up the slanted street behind him, but he did notice someone walk to him from the Dark.

"Oh Kirby, were you drinking too much Siegbrau again?" an Evangelist asked affectionately with a voice that was high-pitched contrary to her size, patting the Winged Knight's back with her free left hand. The Evangelist was quite a big woman, a mountain of feminine flesh, perhaps nine feet tall or so. She wore a very wide-brimmed hat, a black mask for the upper half of the face, loose-fitting robes with leather coverings for the shoulders, an immensely flaring ruff collar, thick trousers, leather gloves, and carrying a gigantic holy-water-sprinkler with a metal shaft taller than herself. Under her robes she more mail armour, reaching her ankles and wrists, as if a dress made of mail. Unlike other Evangelists, this one was never smiling, and did not wear a bronze cuirass. Her tome had a loop of leather attached to it, which she had slung over the shoulders.

"No, Mary, it'sth not that. When that fwaming demon attacked me, he kept exthaling fire, thmoke and fumes, and I kept inheyling it. Fiery fumez and liquor don't mix Mary, they don't mix! OK! I'm not sick from d-d-d-drunkenness, I'm sick from feeling gross. That annoying blazing buzzurd, he was so hard to hit because he could fly around like crazy! So I kept shpinning my gwaive, over and over again, until I realized I could not stand anymore!" the Winged Knight, Kirby, replied, coughing a little.

"Oh? Is that why you ran away?" the Evangelist, Mary, asked, holding in a chuckle, placing her free hand under her chin and tilting her head.

"No! I didn't run away! OK! I was thpinning so much, I b-b-buh-buh-buh-became so dizzy, I couldn't, I couldn't even stand up straight! OK! Then, all those weird meaty guys swarmed me! An-a-n-n-a-a-and I was just tho confused, that I ended up going the wrong wayyy!" Sir Kirby assured, and lapped some more water. Mary patted him again. "And don't pet me." Kirby whined.

Then, the two overheard a heavy flappy noise, so they and the Lothric Knight now nearby them looked up, and the devil suddenly appeared, landing on a statue of some cleric. The devil's talons grasped the statue's head, the beast's body bleeding and flaming, and his heart, lungs, and internal machinery audibly working as always.

"Oh-my-god-speaking-of-which!" Kirby shouted quickly, "there's the motherfucker now! Shoo!" she finished, slinging out her tome and throwing it at the devil; the book thudded against the devil's shoulder and bounced off. The devil then jumped up, flapping his wings, and swooped at the two fatties, hissing flames.

Mary instinctively raised her immense spiked mace, whilst Kirby, still woozy, raised his giant voulge, but lost balance and fell over, Mary briefly looking at him to see what had happened. When she looked forwards, she remembered about the diving devil, flinched, dropped her mace, and then the devil slammed into her.

Surprisingly, Mary had grabbed the devil in her arms, his blazing, smoking body causing her to start inhaling smoke and fire, but Evangelists could use a similar spell on themselves, and so she was resistant to the flames. However, the red-hot machinery was a different story, the devil's claws, teeth and talons looked nothing short of scary. So, Mary slammed the devil into the fountain, its waters immediately sizzling and steaming, and then she stepped away from the fountain, the devil's arm clawing over it. She quickly picked her her spiked greatmace while Kirby tried to pick himself up, but he just kept falling back down.

The devil stood up, mechanical parts steaming and creaking from the sudden plunge into icy-cold water, and was greeted by a giant spiked mace to the face, staggering him. The devil jumped out of the fountain, flapping his wings like crazy, sending drops of blood and water everywhere. The Evangelist swung her mace again, but the devil dodged it midair this time, and her mace swung around and hit the Lothric Knight in the pauldron, causing him to fall over, the fleshy monster still latched onto him.

"Whoa, where did you come from?" Mary asked, surprised, and then a horde of fleshy monsters ran out the Dark behind the Lothric Knight, all of them suddenly howling, roaring or hissing at the same time, trampling over the fallen knight and jumping upon everything in their way.

The Evangelist swung her holy-water-sprinkler in both hands repeatedly side to side, knocking down a few of the beasts, but she was nonetheless overwhelmed and fell over. Several fleshy monsters jumped at the devil, grasping him and pulling him down from the air, their flesh sizzling against the quenched yet still remaining extreme heat of his mechanical body parts.

"Mary!" Sir Kirby cried out, and the big Winged Knight got up, pulling his voulge back, ready to give it another mighty spin!


	4. Unbeliever - Prevail

**Unbeliever, part 3**

 **Prevail**

The fleshy monsters swarmed forth, trampling the Lothric Knight, resembling a flowing curtain of skinless apes, breathing heavily as they trod through the blood and snow, and the Winged Knight, despite being so huge and fat, began spinning around with rotational momentum that would put even the greatest ballet dancer to shame, itty bitty little wings flapping away. The halberd swung around and around, with each and every rotation loping off legs, arms, heads, and chopping across the torsos of any fleshy creature that was within reach, and those that jumped at him were cut apart midair. The Winged Knight danced as body parts flopped around him and blood gushed out all over the place, his armour drenched in blood, unsurprisingly. The momentum felled enough of the meaty monsters to save Mary, who lied on her back, kicking at the beasts' eyeless faces.

As for the devil, his internal machinery started glowing orange, and the monsters that tried to harm him withstood the agony of grasping extremely hot metal and bit and clawed at him. The monsters dug their claws and teeth into the devil, tearing into some flesh, but the machinery was not something that could be damaged by organic motion. The devil got angry and began wriggling, exhaling mouthfuls of smoke, fire and boiling blood, which spewed out up to several feet in the air, flames lighting up the immediate area.

Overhearing cold steel chopping into meaty bodies, the devil growled powerfully, and his body burst into flames, the torrents of fire gushing so strongly the fleshy monsters at him—their hands already burnt black—writhed backwards to get away from the flames, growling back. Raising and then kicking his legs forth, the devil flicked back onto his feet, arms and wings spread apart, tail sliding back and forth, and then the demonic mechanical thing howled and charged, the fleshy monsters howling back, and they ran into one another.

Being much faster, the devil tackling into one monster's abdomen and stood up, flipping the monster over itself, and immediately several adjacent monsters plowed their clawed hands or feet at the devil. To retaliate against so many attacking limbs, the devil went into a spasmatic state, driving his arms diagonally downwards from above so that his claws constantly flicked through the air, cutting into the various limbs going at him. At the same time, the devil blasted fire and boiling blood out his mouth every time he exhaled, and breathing in and out as if a small bird, he became quite the machine. He also flicked his wings and tail out in random directions, which did not do much.

Regardless of the flashy display, the fleshy monsters surrounded the devil without thinking, most diving at him, but the devil dodged them or jumped over them with a flap of his wings, kicking upwards midair, feeling his clawed toes ramming into the beasts and then kick back. The devil landed atop a fleshy monster, weight slamming it down against the blood-covered street, and started going crazy in all directions, becoming quite the whirlwind of claws and wings and a tail, and continuously bellowing blood and fire. Suddenly, a fleshy monster jumped from the top of a building and landed atop the devil, but the winged mechanical thing bent his knees and did not drop. He was then piled by several fleshy monsters, their skinless meaty limbs sizzling against the devil's red-hot machinery, and they tried to eat him alive, basically.

Meanwhile, Kirby's ballet rendered the fleshy monsters nearby to pieces, and then he finished his mighty swing. All around him was a circular pile of body parts; even when dismembered, fingers and legs twitched or continued moving on their own, alluding to the extreme hardiness of the fleshy monsters. The Winged Knight caught his breath, leaning forwards, holding his halberd in one hand, and then he started puking, the contents of his big belly flowing out like the water from a fountain.

Mary picked her fat ass up, wondering what happened, a few fleshy monsters who were brave enough to run passed the Winged Knight crawling at her, so she went on her knees and swung her holy-water-sprinkler sideways, hitting the one to her right, and then she held her mace sideways in both hands so that she could bash the shaft into the fleshy monsters. One grabbed it and pushed on it, so Mary spun around while swinging the spiked mace, surprisingly being so strong she pulled it out of the beast's grip, and then felt another monster grab her by the legs, and at the same time, another crawled over the back of the fleshy monster who grabbed her mace and jumped at her head, extending its arms.

Mary gasped, and then head-butted the fleshy monster who jumped at her, impact destroying her mask, but at least she head-butted the fleshy monster with such force it flipped sideways around her. She then punched the fleshy monster who had grabbed her holy-water-sprinkler moments ago with her left arm, punching it across its head just as it raised its arms to attack, dazing it.

The fleshy monster that grabbed Mary's legs attempted to lift her up, but she with her natural size, and the weight of her mail armour, prevented that from happening. She grabbed the meaty creature's forehead and pushed it back, the beast snapping its jaws repeatedly, forcing its arms to extend and so have less grip on her legs, then she kneed it in the chin, hearing its jaw crack, then she raised her mace and drove the butt-spike downwards into the monster's back.

Hearing footsteps splashing blood and the heavy breathing of the fleshy monsters prowling in the darkness, the Evangelist looked around, but did not see much. The devil, machinery glowing with heat, wrestled with his many foes, silhouettes flickering as the bodies moving in front of the cast light, and as for the Lothric Knight, he was being mauled by many fleshy monsters and could not regain himself.

Sir Kirby finished puking and was swinging his halberd at his many enemies but not spinning like a windmill, the immense blade often swung awkwardly but still cleaving into the beasts' bodies and audibly splatting and cracking through their bones. She overheard the struggles of the devil, so ran into the blackness, picking up her book she had thrown at the devil earlier, and then spun around, swinging her giant holy-water-sprinkler in one hand low, the weapon swinging across the arms of a few fleshy monsters who ran at her like gorillas, their forearms mashed, so they lifted their arms and jumped at the Evangelist, as did several other fleshy monsters elsewhere in the darkness. She quickly used her tome to summon a Force, the miracle blasting the flesh monsters back, and splashing blood running along the streets and body parts outwards all around her.

"Ohh! Hah hah hah hah!" Mary laughed, and then swung her holy-water-sprinkler downwards from above, slamming it into the head of a fleshy monster picking itself up, the long spikes piercing its skull without any problem and then the solid head crushing into the skull, splatting it. She then jumped forth, heavy boots crashing down upon two different fleshy monsters, and at the same time, she summoned another Force miracle, projecting the power downwards so that her weight crushed the monsters as well as blast a gravitational force down upon them, which threw their limbs flat into the streets, and again splashed blood and body parts outwards around her. Without wasting any time, Mary ran towards Kirby, as being so big and slow, and obviously too dizzy to fight well, several fleshy monsters had already pounced upon him, biting and clawing at his armour.

"Get off of me, thunz of bitches!" Kirby whined, his little wings beating down upon a fleshy monster on his back, very much to no effect. Mary came to his rescue, not even bothering to open her tome, but still using it as a catalyst for miracles, and she unleashed a swam of Dark insects, swirling through the air, the numberless nibbling creatures of blackness with a smearing aura tearing into the fleshy monsters but unable to eat through Kirby's armour, and immediately, blood and bits of flesh flew off the fleshy monsters' bodies.

To Mary's surprise, the fleshy monsters did not even budge, even as their tendons, muscles and veins hung out loosely, the remnants of Dark things chewing away at those hanging parts, yet the meaty monsters remained clinging onto the Winged Knight, cracking their claws and teeth against his armour.

"Well that didn't work." Mary said to herself with a shrug, and then Kirby groaned, driving himself into the side of a building, smashing the fleshy monster over his shoulder into it, but he literally smashed through the wall, the stone surface shattering, and he fell over inside the house, apparently crashing into the kitchen.

Inside the kitchen was a stove, and along the wall beside the stove was a counter full of cooking supplies and utensils, with even more utensils hung along the wall. As the dust settled, three Catarina knights were revealed, two sitting on the floor, both raising their right hand to shield themselves from the dust, and one Catarina knight knelt before a metal cooking pot in the stove, obviously realizing that dust had fluttered into his soup.

The Catarina knights wore peculiar armour, bright baize in colour, the helmet gigantic and somewhat shaped like a short wide onion with a very wide eye slit and the helm having ridges lining up, and then having a very large gorget shaped into two rolls. The pauldrons, gauntlets, poleyns, greaves and sabatons very large and spacious. The breastplate was shaped to appear as if a very fat belly with three bulging rolls of fat, the largest bulge at the bottom, with short tassets hanging down the sides of the front of the breastplate. A hauberk was worn underneath the armour, the bottom terminating into triangular sections all around. The knight kneeling before the cooking pot wore armour that was the same but a little brighter.

All three knights each had large, bulbous bucklers with a long spike protruding from the boss, the handle strapped to their sword-belt. Lying on the floor near the knights were two immense bidenhanders with lugs above the ricasso, the quillons expanding slightly towards the ends but having a small protruding bulb at the end. There was also one large bastard sword on the floor, with a crossguard curling towards the blade.

"Mmm, hm?" one of the sitting knights remarked, snapping out of some snoring, his voice rich and elegant yet calm, looking at the big hole in the wall, "Oh? Oh-hoh! Quite literally, that big fellow ran right up through a wall. Not weighing his options, so to speak, ah ha ha! Hah hah hah hah! Ah ha ha ha ha haaa..." he continued, laughing without much vigour, hardly a surprise as his sense of humour was nonsensical.

"Well! And there goes my Siegbrau. The dust that fluttered into it, has rightly ruined it." the knight kneeling at the pot remarked, his voice rich and elegant and without any trace of disappointment or fear, sounding similar to the previous knight who just spoke. The three knights' helms turned to look at the fleshy monsters attacking the Winged Knight as he tried to get up, but their clawed hands and feet just slid along his bloodied armour. Several more fleshy monsters started crawling into the house, taking a look even though they did not have eyes.

"Oohhh! How can this be? I can't even have some soup with my father after finally finding him after so long." one of the sitting knights whined at the sight of possible danger, surprisingly, the voice that of a young woman, quite contrary to the size of the armour. She picked herself up, unstrapping her buckler from her belt and gripping it in her left hand, then grasping her bastard sword from the floor in her right hand, and she walked towards the combat.

"Oh come now, Sieglinde, don't be such a baby, good things come to those who wait!" the first Catarina knight who spoke said, getting up. The female knight, Sieglinde, stopped walking and turned to the side.

"Oh, shut up dad. Don't make me kill you again." she said whilst the cook-knight got his spiked buckler and great sword in his hands, readying himself to fight.

"Is that so, my dear little Sieglinde? Well, I suppose stranger things have happened, given enough time, and who knows, maybe you will end up trapped in a crystal." the other Catarina knight said without a serious tone, the chevaleresse looking at him briefly when he said "crystal."

The Winged Knight was unable to do much, dizzy and tired, and the weight of many opponents on him kept him down. He resorted to dropping his halberd and withdraw one of his axes, and began chopping it at himself, trying to hack away the fleshy monsters, but his bulky armour kept getting in the way. Perhaps a dozen more fleshy monsters crawled into the house, and approaching the Catarina knights, the Evangelist outside casting spells, swinging her holy-water-sprinkler, and laughing aloud audibly amidst growling and hissing.

Upon seeing the many fleshy monsters fast approaching, some crawling, others running, others walking with their knuckles, the father of Sieglinde slowly jogged forth, armour shuffling and clinking as he moved. The fleshy monsters immediately noticed him, opening their mouths, fangs extending, gums drooling.

"Hm, this is not good, we will need three more men, maybe five, to fix this... this is quite the fix indeed... Oh, who am I kidding, why bother with a few silly thingies? We will overcome this together!" the father of the chevaleresse exclaimed eagerly, then sprang to action, going into a sprint and swinging his mighty blade downward in one hand, but his targeted monster skipped out of the way as it slammed against the floor. "Hrrraaaagh! C'mon over here, you skinless meatballs! Over here, right here, you disgusting fiends! We are knights of Catarina, and you all shall feel our rage! Huzzah!" the Catarina knight said dramatically but without much wrath, Sieglinde and the cook-knight jumping into the fray as well, big blades swung in one hand to and fro whilst they punched their spiked bucklers into the swarm of fleshy monsters, as well as push-kicking, headbutting with their immense helms, and driving the pommels of their swords into skulls.

"By my knighthood, I Siegward of Catarina, fight for our nation's honour!" the cook-knight exclaimed, with better theatrics than the father, "Aaaarrrhih!" he shouted as he lunged his great sword forth, stabbing clean through a fleshy monster, but it just writhed up the blade and began headbutting him in the helm.

Becoming angry, the Winged Knight grumbled and picked himself up with some struggling, the weight of several fleshy monsters unable to keep him down due to his rage, and then he withdrew his other axe, wielding each axe in either hand, and he began swinging them one after the other into the other fleshy monsters, but he also stomped, kicked, and kneed at the fleshy fiends.

The monsters fought savagely as always, throwing themselves upon the enemy, clawing and biting and thrashing their limbs and heads wildly, headbutting, clawing, biting, kicking and slamming their fists into armour, the heavier blows staggering or even dazing the Catarina knights when hit in the head. Siegward spun to the side while swinging his sword, the blade cutting through one half of the fleshy monster's torso it had skewered and flicking out of it, the blade continuing to cut into the arm of another fleshy monster, then another fleshy monster jumped over the others and landed atop him. He raised his buckler and punched it upwards repeatedly, and then was tackled into the legs and staggered, but did not fall over; he resorted to kicking and bashing his pommel.

Sieglinde waved her bastard sword, swinging it in arcs, hearing the blade flick across skulls and arms going at her, even chopping off the top half of a monster's skull, then one jumped at her. She rammed her shield forth, stabbing the spike into the leaping fleshy monster's chest, but it still landed atop her. She raised her bastard sword and bashed the pommel over her shield into the fleshy monster's face repeatedly, holding her ground, but two fleshy monsters at either side already flanked her, one grabbing her legs and the other grabbing her helm, and they wrenched her off her feet.

"Heavens, my little Linde!" the Catarina knight exclaimed, rushing to the aid of his daughter, swinging his sword sideways and cutting into a few of the monsters, then ramming his pauldron into one of them and staggering it, and then furiously fighting his many opponents while Sieglinde did her best to swing her sword and punch her shield while on her back.

"Siegmeyer! Wait for me!" the cook-knight exclaimed, knowing that the other male knight would just be easily and quickly swarmed by the many opponents, but regardless, he fought them, swinging his mighty blade to and fro in one hand and cutting into several legs and arms going at him. After a few seconds, a few fleshy monsters encircled him, grabbing him by the legs and taking him off his feet, immediately stomping and clubbing him with their hands.

"No! You should have waited!" Siegward exclaimed upon realizing his two friends had already fell over, so he rolled backwards suddenly and powerfully, causing the monster on him to fall off, falling into a chair and breaking through it, as the furniture of this world was quite poor. Siegward got up to his feet and spun around, holding his bidenhander by the ricasso in one hand, and throwing it as if it were a giant javelin, the humongous blade passing clean through a fleshy monster's chest just as it charged Siegward, the lugs above the ricasso hitting the beast's chest and the rest of the blade sticking out tis back stabbing into another fleshy monster's chest.

Siegward rolled over again to dodge a fleshy monster that jumped at him, its head slamming against the wall. As he got back up, Siegward had grabbed another sword from the floor, this one rather oddly shaped. The blade was a great sword, the last third of the blade broken, the blade having a short ricasso and lugs, but no crossguard, the pommel very wide and narrow, like an edgeless blade, curving slightly towards the blade.

Siegward held the odd sword in one hand and pulled it back, and somehow, a whirlwind formed from it. He raised the blade, the power increasing and becoming fiercer, and then swung the sword forth, unleashing a whirlwind from it. The power of this sword was so much, that the directed winds swirled into the swarm of fleshy monsters and blew them back, hurling some out the house, and blowing others against the walls or windows, the two fleshy monsters skewered by his thrown bidenhander sliding along the floor haplessly. The power forced blood to splash out the fleshy monsters' bodies upon being hit, and the force caused the Winged Knight to twirl around and fall over, then roll into the wall, Siegmeyer and Sieglinde also rolling into the wall from the heavy winds, but as always, everyone managed to hold onto their arms.

"Fantastic! You saved me and my daughter! This knight of Catarina thanks you sincerely, knight of Catarina!" Siegmeyer proudly stated as he picked himself up, though most fleshy monsters already leapt upon he and his daughter and the fighting continued nonetheless.

"Forgive me, this knight of Catarina has no choice!" Siegward remarked, preparing a second release of raw power, for most of the fleshy monsters already got back up and charged again! Once ready, Siegward released the power of winds from his sword a second time, blowing back several fleshy monsters who jumped at him midair. Siegward then charged, screaming his battlecry, swinging his impressive sword to and fro wildly, cutting up a few fleshy monsters, but they got up anyways and amassed yet again, Sieglinde and her father getting up again and continuing the fight.

"Great gallantry leads to even greater risks, but next time, let me come up with a plan." Siegmeyer said, a little annoyed, and then a third surge of the power of the strange sword was unleashed, mowing into the assortment of beings, blasting the two Catarina knights, the Winged Knights, and twenty or so fleshy monsters through the wall, breaking it open farther, then the house began creaking and started to collapse.

"Oh no, my Siegbrau is hopelessly ruined now!" Siegward exclaimed as the house started breaking apart, so he raised his sword and released another blast of its power, blowing debris upwards while running forwards, running passed several fleshy monsters he had previously knocked down now charging him, and he jumped out the collapsing house as it came crashing down, burying some fleshy monsters—including the two he had impaled when he threw his bidenhander—who tried to attack Siegward rather than escape the collapsing house. He landed on his side and rolled over, bricks and dust avalanching over him and the blood running down the streets constantly.

As the dust settled, the two Catarina knights and the Winged knight coughing, Siegward emerged from the rubble, armour quite dusty. Mary ran to the scene, so the three Catarina knights spun around to face her, and then the twenty fleshy monsters suddenly leapt upon the Catarina knights and the fighting continued.

"Oh wow! What did you do?" the Evangelist exclaimed, she speaking and not casting spells suggesting that she was not a mindless Hollow. Curiously enough, several fleshy monsters ran passed her, as if ignoring her; she remained standing upright and still, and allowed them to run. Mary ran to Kirby, dropping her book and holy-water-sprinkler to grab him and help him up, the Winged Knight mumbling something unintelligible, unable to speak with a mouth full of dust.

"Get off of me!" Sieglinde angrily cried out, but the fleshy monsters refused to comply, and continued bashing their skulls, fists and feet into her armour, the constant thudding and pounding dazing her a little, but the great wideness of Catarina armour lessened the blunt force trauma.

"Just give me a few moments to think of a plan!" Siegmeyer shouted whilst being pummelled by many attacks, but was clearly stuck, like an upside-down turtle. Were it not for their armour, the knights surely would have been beaten to a pulp and then ripped asunder.

Siegward stepped out the debris, overhearing the rubble moving around, for the fleshy monsters buried underneath angrily were trying to dig themselves out, one by one emerging from the ruins. As he walked through the debris, he beheaded an emerging fleshy monster, ending it just like that. He summoned yet another mass of the odd sword's powers, and ran forth, unleashing it forwards into the horde of fleshy monsters swarming his two friends, the power mowing forth over his friends and blasting the beasts off them, some of them thudding against the walls of other houses, and then several Hollows got scared and ran off, but other fleshy monsters tackled the Hollows down, drove claws into them, and ripped them open and then apart.

"Why thank-you, Siegward! I don't know how those meatballs always end up piling me!" Sieglinde remarked, getting up.

"Why, you saved us again! This knight of Catarina is in your debt, truly." Siegmeyer exclaimed, as polite as always.

"Oh, no need to thank me, knight of Catarina! This knight of Catarina swears to fight by your side!" Siegward replied.

"What the fuck are you all talking about?" Mary asked cluelessly, obliviously confused, Sir Kirby barfing behind her, his little wings drooping, alluding to his dizzy and sickened state.

"Hm, I think some Siegbrau would have helped him up quite a bit..." Siegward remarked, and then everyone heard footfall splashing through the blood-filled streets from all directions, and then howling from afar from many different locations.

"This is no good! More are coming!" Siegmeyer exclaimed as many fleshy monsters walked sideways in the vicinity, having learned that these were difficult foes to fight, and now becoming more cautious, and soon, the fleshy monsters were shoulder-to-shoulder in all directions. Everyone heard thumping sounding from the rooftops all around.

"Wait! Don't do anything, if you stay still, they ignore you!" Mary shouted, but the Catarina knights did not listen, and the three onions ran forth, swinging their blades, and then the fleshy fiends swarmed them at the same time as a single mass of compact flesh, dozens leaping from the rooftops.

The three Catarina knights, knowing that they were facing multiple opponents form everywhere, resorted to swinging their blades while twirling around, swinging low, so that their long blades cut across the legs of several different charging monsters, loping off a few legs, and once the situation became up-close, they bashed with their shields, pommels, and helmets. Most of the fleshy monsters that jumped off the homes landed on other fleshy monsters, but one landed atop Siegmeyer, huge feet slamming against his pauldrons and pushing him against the streets. The others crawled atop those below them, these meaty fiends so hellbent and hive-minded they would try to attack a few individuals with hundreds of themselves.

Sieglinde continued bashing the rim of her shield and her pommel as hard as she could, but the fleshy monsters pushed themselves as a single mass, crushing themselves against the knights, squish them so much they barely had any room to even move. Immediately, the beasts gnawed on the helmets or flailed their heads into the helms, providing constant attacks that did not do much. Once she felt a fleshy monster crawl overhead other monsters and push its arms downwards against her helm, she gradually sunk, and would have fallen were it not for the walls of fleshy monsters everywhere.

Summoning the powers of his blade yet again, Siegward began draw cutting his great sword here and there when able, constantly receiving a barrage of headbutts, claws, pushes, punches and pushes from all directions. Once he felt the whirlwind inside his great sword get ready to be unleashed, he stabbed the blade into a fleshy monster's chest, and released the power, the whirlwind expanding inside the monster's body and causing it to blow up, sending blood, body parts and bones flying everywhere, and the power continued through and causing a line of monsters to fall backwards, overlapping one another.

"It will take many more of you meatballs to take me down!" Siegward shouted, raising his sword overhead and feeling tackles and strikes from all directions, and he would have unleashed another surge of power, but nothing happened. "Oh come now, focus, Siegward, focus!" Siegward spat at himself.

Suddenly, the devil flew by, blasting fire and boiling blood out as it swooped over over the fleshy monsters, dragging its talons and ripping open the skulls of several fleshy monsters, then he flicked his wings and flew up, drop-kicking a fleshy monster that jumped off a house to attack him, knocking it over midair, and then landed on the house. A few fleshy monsters crawled up the house and charged the devil, snarling, so the devil faced them, hissing, his internal machinery reddening and spewing smoke and fire like crazy, and then one of the chains hanging from the sky whipped sideways, slamming into the fleshy monsters, wrapping around them, and then flinging off to the side, hurling them away.

The devil screamed, as if in great rage, his scream causing his internal machinery to heat up red-hot, his body twitched, and then he slammed his hands down upon the house, and a length of machinery perhaps three feet thick and hundreds of feet long whirred to life, slamming down from the sky upon a line of fleshy monsters, striking them with such force they seemingly moulded into the length of machinery. The length of machinery, covered with mechanical parts, started grinding the fleshy monsters it hit and those near it, the mechanical parts extending as if having a kind of its own, twisted pieces hooking into flesh and spinning, tendons, veins and muscles entwining around it.

Few by few, the chains hanging from the sky swayed to life, slamming or whipping down upon the fleshy monsters, the beasts roaring or howling angrily at the devil. The whips varied in size, some being very narrow and so cutting into the beasts and slicing them open, whereas the thicker, heavier ones slammed into them, crushing them.

Dozens of fleshy monsters began climbing the houses, either to escape the suspended machinery coming to life, or to bring the attack to the devil. The devil opened his mouth as much as possible, tongue curling out, blood, smoke and fire flowing out, and then he jumped off the house before the fleshy monsters climbing it could reach him, several jumping off it to try and latch onto the devil, but he flew away from them. A giant chunk of machinery slammed into the home the devil used to be on, and destroyed it utterly, sending chunks of debris flying a few dozen feet.

Hovering, looking like a floating furnace, the devil twitched midair, and more lengths of machinery flung passed him, smashing into the fleshy monsters, the buildings, and the streets. Some chains wrapped around fleshy monsters, pulled them into the air, and then began twisting their flesh off their bones, or ripping their limbs off, or throwing them through the air so that thinner chains or lengths of machinery whipped at them and sliced them apart.

"Well, oh shit." Mary remarked, but fortunately, all the fleshy monsters were focused on the devil, and they piled beneath him, using their own bodies to form a mountain, so that others could climb themselves, either serving as additional material to make the hill higher, or to get to the top and jump off it, and try to reach the devil, but he had the reflexes of a humming bird, and buzzed out of the way, body leaking blood as it always was, and wings flicking blood everywhere.

Frightened by the prospect of being ripped apart by machinery, Kirby decided that feeling dizzier was better than getting butchered, so he rampaged his way through the fleshy monsters, which was much easier now that they were no longer focused on anything besides the devil.

"Get out of my way!" the Winged Knight roared, and then began spinning with great momentum, his twin axes cleaving through the horde of fleshy monsters, and without thinking, the three Catarina knights followed after the Winged Knight, cutting their way through the fleshy monsters. Mary cast miracles of Force and Gnawing to get through the mass of meaty bodies, and ran after the others as chains and machinery rained from above, grinding and drilling into the beasts, or plucking them up and butchering them midair. If captured by the machinery or chains, the monsters remained aggressive, biting at the metal parts or trying to rip them apart with their hands, but that did nothing.

Siegward summoned the power of his sword to blast through the horde of fleshy monsters, his Focus returning, whilst the two other Catarina knights hacked and shoved their way forwards, but Sir Kirby did most of the work, a dancer of macabre that chopped a way through. Mary's miracles also helped, her Forces and Emitting Forces blasting away many fleshy monsters, chains whipping down all around them and sometimes picking up the monsters or Hollows. Amidst the sudden change of happenings, the Lothric Knight managed to pick himself up, and bashed his greatshield here and there while shoving his way through the mass of meaty fiends, most of whom made no reaction to him, all of them plowing their way towards the devil.

Soon, Kirby had spun his way through the fleshy monsters, and passed them entirely. He continued twirling for a few more seconds, axes singing through the air, and then he suddenly let go of his axes, both flying through the air, and he fell over limply; he lost consciousness.

Siegward's sword and Mary's Force miracles blasted fleshy monsters out their way, and soon, everyone else reached Kirby, overhearing the cannibalization from the shadows, which was a rather comforting sound to hear, way better than the sound of machinery butchering things midair. The devil seemed amused, breathing rapidly and heavily, breathing fire and smoke as dragons often do. Once they were all out of the horde of fleshy monsters, who continued piling over one another and creating a larger hill of themselves, various Pyromancy spells arched through the air, flying towards the devil, but did little against him.

"Looks like the Fire Witches noticed that buzzard." Mary remarked, and then saw swirling masses of frozen Dark flying towards the devil as well, the projectiles of the Pontiff Knights who drank some sort of odd concoction that then shot out their mouths. Not caring, Mary ran over to Kirby, giving him a good kick in the helm, causing him to snort. "Good, he's alive." Mary said, relieved.

The Lothric Knight exhaled in relief, resting his shield against the ground and readying his spear, expecting the fleshy monsters to turn around and charge again, but that did not happen, then he looked at the Catarina knights, but said nothing. He was, after all, just a Hollow, but not so Hollow he was devoid of sense, and he relaxed. He looked at Mary, noticing she cast a miracle, Great Heal.

"Well, I never thought I'd be saying this to the likes of you, but thank-you, you saved us, this knight of Catarina is in your debt." Siegmeyer said as Mary's miracle glowed yellow over his armour, he resting his bidenhander over his pauldron, and Mary looked at him, but said nothing.

"Yes, thanks for your help, I am so glad to be out of those countless things." Sieglinde thanked, also relaxing, looking up at the machinery suspended from the sky and the chains attacking the fleshy monsters, having never seen anything like that.

"Yes, certainly, this knight of Catarina thanks you sincerely, we are in your debt." Siegward thanked, "But, this mighty fine blade, Stormruler, helped us greatly as well." he continued, looking at the odd sword.

"Yer welcome." Mary replied with a nod, then let her holy-water-sprinkler lean over her shoulder, and she looked up into the sky, seeing all that blackness, the machinery, the chains, and then the Darksign-sun.

"So, do you know where all of those chains and machines come from?" Sieglinde chirped, but Mary just shrugged.

"It's been there for as long as anyone can remember, but this is the first time they've come to life and started attacking things. It's that devil for sure, but, heh heh heh, I think I wanna stay far away from him now." Mary replied, then looked at Sir Kirby for a second, but he seemed out for now.

"Hmmm... mmm, hmm... Yes, those machines from the sky do seem like quite the pickle. What ever can we do against those?" Siegmeyer asked.

"I hate to admit it, but I think those things cannot be fought, we will have to avoid them at all costs." Siegward remarked, taking a step forward and leaning back to have a better look, the pile of fleshy monsters perhaps a hundred feet up now, constantly assaulted by machinery and whipping chains, the devil toying with its prey and flying around, dodging the beasts leaping at him.

"Wait! No... I will think of a plan." Siegmeyer assured.

"The only plan we need, is to get out of here. I spent so long finding you, father, I don't need you ending up being butchered by those machines in the sky." Sieglinde said, leaning into her dad and tapping her helm against his. The Winged Knight grumbled, and slowly started to pick up his fat ass, going on his hands and knees, but he fell again. Mary chuckled.

"And that's why you don't drink heavily before fighting." the Evangelist remarked, Kirby mumbling something in protest, so Mary kicked him in the helmet. "Come on, get up, we gotta go."


	5. Unbeliever - Fighting in the Street

**Unbeliever, part 4**

 **Fighting in the Street**

Some time later, the Lothric Knight leaned around a corner of a building, then gestured with his greatshield for the others to follow. The winding street looked clear, though blood still flowed down it as always, and rather large chains hung from the blackened sky in the vicinity, swaying gently, sometimes clinking against one another. The Winged Knight, the three Catarina knights, and the Evangelist followed the Lothric Knight. Behind them, the flames consuming the house they left earlier grew, embers and smoke rising, but the cold, snowy environment prevented the fire from spreading. The echoes of polyphonic growling and urban fighting sounded in the distance here and there, where the Pontiff Knights and Fire Witches surely engaged with the fleshy monsters.

"So, what's on your mind, friend, were are we going?" Siegmeyer asked, but the Lothric Knight just grunted, unable to speak in his undead form, or perhaps forgetting how to speak for a while.

"L-L-Londo." the Lothric Knight replied after a few seconds of hard thinking and remembering.

"Anor Londo? That's higher up, closer to those machines, why would you go there?" Mary asked, "We should go to the Cathedral of the Deep, down that way methinks, it's safer, the machines have not reached the swampland either last I saw."

"The Cathedral of the Deep? Well..." Siegward remarked, not having a good memory there.

"And swamps..." Siegmeyer mumbled, "They are like quicksand."

"OK, so, will we go to Anor Londo, or to the Cathedral of the Deep? Or what?" Sir Kirby asked, still dizzy, but feeling a little better after the earlier puking.

"Mmm... I think we should go to Anor Londo, I haven't been there in quite a long time, and last time I was there, there was nothing worthwhile up there... But now, with that fiend Aldritch up above, by my knighthood, I must retrace my earlier quest... Adventuring is my life after all!" Siegmeyer said.

"Aldritch? Last I heard, he came back, even though I knew an Unkindled who defeated Aldritch twice. Looks like we may have to face Aldritch ourselves." Siegward commented.

"Well, Anor Londo it is, then?" Sieglinde asked.

"Anor Londo it is! It must be the will of Lord Gywn!" Siegmeyer exclaimed optimistically, jogging forth eagerly, and then one of the chains suddenly sprang to life, causing Mary to gasp, and the chain wrapped around his gorget, lifted him, and threw him away, the knight yelling aloud within his giant helm as another chain grabbed him midair and hurled him over a house.

"What the devil!" Sieglinde cried, running forwards, but stopping once the Lothric knight put his spear in her way, and she noticed the chains began swaying in her direction, but she did not care, and looked at the house her dad flew over moments ago. "Oohhh!" she and Siegward exclaimed at the same time, "Seems like my father has not lost his habit of getting into trouble!" she continued.

"Oh! He should have waited!" Siegward pouted, then more chains began swaying with greater speed.

"Yes, he should have waited!" Mary exclaimed, Sir Kirby warily looking at the hanging things, gripping his halberd tightly.

"Ugh, how those chains end in spikes, hooks, blades, and grapplers, it makes my skin crawl... Hmm... mmm... hmm... Oh, I've got to use my head, and think! How to get passed those vile hanging contraptions? I could try grabbing a chain and climbing up it! No, that would not work..." Siegward continued, and started mumbling to himself.

"Just wait a while longer. This miracle—Deep Protection—let me pray for all of us. The Deep is home to many obscene fiends, and this miracle was created to protect us from them, but also works against those machines, but no-one yet knows why. This was why I wanted to go to the Cathedral of the Deep, but if you'd prefer to go to Anor Londo..." the Evangelist said, and, grasping her tome, raised it, and cast Deep Protection with such Faith it affected the others, coating them in a dark blue aura. "Now we go, but move slowly, the machines flinch sometimes."

"Ah! So this Miracle will prevent the chains from attacking us?" Siegward asked, walking forth, and the chains ignored him, and Sieglinde also went forwards, the chains swaying and clinking against her armour, but they did nothing.

"Thank goodness this works! Thank-you, Evangelist, truly." Sieglinde thanked, Mary nodding.

"Brilliant! I, Siegward of Catarina, would like to make a toast with you sometime!" Siegward said, chains ringing as he walked through them.

"I don't drink, you have a toast with Sir Kirby, I think he's not had enough to drink." Mary replied, Siegward turning his head and looking at the Winged Knight, Kirby gazing at the chains, still a little dizzy and sick.

"Then I hope we can toast with my father, I must find him." Sieglinde remarked.

"Yes, we will, but still, go slowly, don't want the bastards sliding into your armour." Mary said, and the big lady lumbered forth, walking through the hanging chains, and everyone else followed her, Sir Kirby's huge frame causing many chains to tinkle against his armour.

Everyone walked on and on, Mary casting Deep Protection again every few minutes, and like all other Evangelists, seemed to possess unlimited Focus Points. Perhaps it was the tome. Sieglinde called out to her father once in a while, but never got a reply.

"If he'll just stay put, I might be able to find him..." Sieglinde remarked.

"Don't worry, sweetie, we will find him, then head to Anor Londo, even though I do not think it is a wise idea." Mary spoke.

"Hah! If Aldritch tries to eat any of us, I will chop him up into many steaks!" the Winged Knight chuckled.

After an hour or so of exploring, the group could not find Siegmeyer anywhere, Sieglinde calling out for him, but he did not reply. They walked through the flowing blood everywhere, feet splashing blood about a little, overhearing chiming chains and sometimes a zombie eating itself, often looking up to see small groups of fleshy monsters crawling along the rooftops, but they also saw Fire Witches in balconies here and there. Curiously enough, the chains did not trouble the Fire Witches, perhaps because they could stand motionlessly?

"Have you seen my father? You couldn't miss him! He wears armour just like mine!" Sieglinde called to a Fire Witch standing at a nearby balcony, the Fire Witch leaning over the railings, her strange spiky halberd blazing away, many shadows flickering behind the many chains suspended from the sky. The witch exclaimed something with a voice like crying wind. "I'm sorry, what was that?" Sieglinde asked, not understanding what the Fire Witch said, so the witch instead shrugged, and several chains near her started swaying gently. "Oh, I see... Well, if you happen to stumble upon him, tell him Sieglinde is on her way!"

"Don't bother talking to Fire Witches, they can barely speak themselves." Mary remarked.

"Well, I still had to ask." Sieglinde said, Mary casting Deep Protection again.

"Certainly. But, if we can't find Siegmeyer, we will have to continue going to Anor Londo, and being so high up, we may be able to spot him." Mary said while looking up, noticing a few of the fleshy beasts crawling on rooftops nearby.

"And maybe I can practise flying up there! Heh heh!" Kirby huffed, and then everyone heard chains rattling sounding down the street, so the knights and the nearby Fire Witch stopped and looked down the street.

An immense, skinned, muscular arm appeared, twelve feet long, outstretching along the street from behind the corner of a mansion, and its skinless, meaty skull appeared, upper teeth clicking against lower teeth repeatedly due to shivering. Slowly crawling from around the corner of the mansion was some sort of flesh golem, similar to the ones already seen, but this one was vastly larger, perhaps twenty feet tall, extremely muscular, and all its toes and fingers having an additional joint, its claws long and curved. Integrated with the monster's bones, tendons and nervous system were mechanical parts, as if a skeleton of articulated machinery was merged inside its own skinless body.

The fleshy, mechanical monster crawled low, elbows and knees stuck out to the sides, mechanical parts audibly working as he moved, his big meaty skull turning side to side slowly, the monster's breathing sounding like a furnace, and steam bellowed out with every exhale. The huge flesh golem turned, and started crawling up the street, pace slow but steady, many chains clinking and swaying as he passed through them.

"I'm not even surprised he ended up crawling towards us." Kirby remarked, the Lothric Knight making a guttural sound, the big mechanical fleshy monster nearing.

"I don't know what's worse, these machines of hanging butchery, or that big beast approaching us." Mary mumbled to herself.

"Mmm, hmm... Well, I am no coward and have a strong arm, but that thing makes my skin crawl... Perhaps I can talk some sense into him? No, that wouldn't work, he looks way too complicated... Maybe-" Siegward said, only to be cut-off by the Winged Knight, who bellowed his battle cry and lumbered forth. "No! Wait! You should have waited!"

"Anyone wants fresh monster steak tonight!" Sir Kirby yelled, the big fleshy monster overhearing the shuffling armour and booming voice obviously, and out of reflex, the monster snapped its head back and growled, then lumbered forth on all fours, breathing furiously, sounding like a coughing furnace.

"Well, too late now! I, Siegward of the Knights of Catarina, shall fight by your side! Have at you!" the onion knight yelled, sprinting forwards to join the fight.

"There's now only one thing left to do." Sieglinde remarked, jogging forwards to meet the big golem of flesh and machinery.

Mary let her immense holy-water-sprinkler leaning against her shoulder, opened her spellbook, and cast Dorhy's Gnawing, the twirling mass of Dark insects moving through the hanging chains without any problem, flying through the links, the projectile rather slowly arching its way towards the beast.

The Winged Knight charged, raising his halberd and then swinging it down upon reaching the beast, but the big fleshy monster sidestepped quite quickly, dodging the halberd. Kirby raised his halberd again, and then the monster immediately stood with bent knees and wrapped its immense arms around Kirby's pauldrons, squishing his halberd against him, lifting him like that, and then slamming him against the street. The big monster then began repeatedly headbutting the Winged Knight in the helm.

Siegward reached the scene, the big fleshy monster looking up as the onion knight neared, and the Catarina Knight swung Storm Ruler diagonally down the beast's head, blade making a cracking noise against its head, but it did not make a deep cut; Siegward then punched his spiked buckler into the monster's face, but the spike failed to penetrate. The big meaty monster grunted and then grabbed Siegward by the helm, which was easy to grab due to its bulbous shape, and picked him up as he kicked and repeatedly chopped Storm Ruler, and then slammed him headfirst into the street.

The creature then leapt over Siegward, chains bending and rattling quickly as he flew through them, and avalanched over Sieglinde, who was just able to swing her bastard sword into the incoming mass of flesh and machinery, but was nevertheless rolled upon.

It was now the Lothric Knight's turn to charge, long spear and greatshield ready, spear stabbing into the big monster's chest as he picked himself up and then the greatshield smashing into him. Grunting, the Lothric Knight repeatedly stabbed and bashed his shield one after the other, until the hulking creature moved its right arm around the greatshield, grabbing the knight's arm, then pulling the knight towards himself until he tumbled onto his knees, but still thrust his spear while kneeling.

Standing up straighter, the monster clubbed his left hand repeatedly upon the Lothric Knight's helm, and then Mary's Dorhy's Gnawing flew into the monster's face, the shadowy swarms of things drilling into his skull and spewing blood out. This unexpected attack caused the creature to rear, letting go of the Lothric Knight and rubbing its face to scrub the Dark insects off himself, and that was when Mary stepped forth and swung her immense mace downwards, but two of the long spikes got caught in the links of a chain, which instantly stopped the swing.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Mary whined, trying to pull her holy-water-sprinkler free, but it remained stuck, and then the large creature booted Mary in her big belly, causing her to huff and fall over, her mace still caught by the chain and hanging by it.

Siegward and Sieglinde by this time were on their feet and charging the beast, Sir Kirby (who still felt the dizziness hangover gave) and the Lothric Knight still picking themselves up slowly but surely. The two Catarina Knights reached the monster's backside, hitting it with their swords and shields repeatedly, all movement always passing through chains that stifled their attacks, especially when the hilt or spike of the buckler got caught in the links, and then the big creature just swatted them down to the ground.

Finally noticing something amiss, the Fire Witch at the nearby balcony turned, raised her halberd, and unleashed a blast of flames that arose underneath the beast, the blood rushing along the street there bubbling and steaming from the heat. The pillar of fire burned the fleshy monster, who jumped away and looked around, two more Fire Witches from different distant balconies noticing and casting fireballs at him.

Sir Kirby and the Lothric Knight approached the big creature, the Lothric Knight raising his greatshield as a giant hand smashed into it, the knight feeling the blow push his greatshield back and hit his visor. The Winged Knight raised his halberd as the big fleshy monster sent a big swipe at his direction, hacking into the incoming arm, the halberd cutting into the palm and down the forearm, stiffing the swing, but the hand still slammed upon the Winged Knight's helm with enough force to make the jumbo knight kneel. Writhing his shoulders, Kirby thrust his halberd, tip stabbing into the beast's sternum by several inches, the beast's waist moving back a little, and then two fireballs struck the meaty monstrosity in the head and chest.

While Sir Kirby kept pushing his halberd deeper into the beast's body, the Lothric Knight thrust his spear into the monster's throat just as it raised both arms, so it grabbed onto the spear and halberd and pushed them out itself, then push kicked the Winged Knight over but he still held onto his halberd. The Lothric Knight stepped forth, letting his right hand slide up the shaft until he could bash his greatshield into the beast's front, but that did nothing.

Sieglinde and Siegward were already attacking the back of the monster, swinging into his legs and lower back, Mary trying to free her mace from the chain while cussing silently, but found it impossible. The Evangelist got angry and decided to just give up, and so withdrew a notched whip from her side that Evangelists often carry. She then flicked the whip forth, which extended and gave the monster a whip to the face, and did nothing.

"Oh, pff! Like a little whip's going to do anything!" Sir Kirby shouted as he struggled against the monster, the Fire Witches casting pyromancy at him as usual, but the normal fleshy monsters crawling on the rooftops began amassing, one Fire Witches noticing and so cast pyromancy at them, and those near her backed off.

"Well, better than nothing." Mary remarked, then let her spellbook open, and she cast Dorhy's Gnawing at the monster again, the projectile soon splashing onto his shoulder and eating away at it, and then a few masses of flames cast by the Fire Witches waved upon the monster.

Briefly roaring, the monster grabbed a few hanging chains and pulled himself up them, using them as a swing to get him to safety, the four knights running after him. The monster then spun around lowly, swinging his leg low, delivering a sweep kick that swung across the legs of the Catarina Knights and the Lothric Knight, taking them down, but Kirby, who was hit last, was too big and too heavy to be knocked down. He engaged with the monster, swinging his halberd at it, but the beats caught the halberd and pushed it back into the Winged Knight, then the two struggled against one another but the monster was much stronger and gradually pushed Kirby backwards.

Getting up, the three other knights attacked the monster again, Siegward thrusting his blade into the monster's side, overhearing Mary pray Deep Protection and then the Fire Witches casting fireballs at the monster. Ramming his blade halfway into the monster, Siegward then summoned the power of Storm Ruler, some of the power entering the monster's body and then blowing out his mouth, whereas a portion of the power did not enter the body but waved into the monster's side, all of this making the monster fall over onto his side wondering what the fuck just happened.

Still lying over, the monster lifted its arms and grabbed two handfuls of chains, and pulled himself up with them, and jumped onto the charging knights, all of them raising their weapons, the monster falling on the weapons but his immense size and weight came crashing down on them anyways, and they fell. If they had not been wearing plate armour, which served as a metal shell, surely they would have been squashed. The monster got up, breathing heavily, needing a short break, and then a Dorhy's Gnawing splashed over his chest, causing blood to spurt out, the beast rubbing himself to scrub the Dark insects away quicker, Mary whipping at him, but the chains were often in the way.

"Those damn chains are so annoying!" Mary yelled.

The Fire Witches cast more fiery projectiles at the beast, which flowed through the chains without too much problem, but were not being too active as to not hit friendlies, the nearby Fire Witch casting a torrent of fire continuously at the monster's head, and he soon got angry and began rolling the shoulders, feeling the knights' weapons cutting into his legs. The big fleshy monster leapt over everyone, then stood tall to face the nearby Fire Witch, whose halberd continued flowing flames out, and she struck the beast on the head, spikes digging into its skull and the halberd's flames enveloping the head.

Growling from pain, the monster grabbed the Fire Witch by the legs, pulled her over the balcony railings, carried her through chiming chains, and then slammed her against the street with such force she lost grip of her halberd, blood splashing everywhere. The two other Fire Witches, upon seeing their friend in danger, both summoned pillars of fire to explode from underneath the beast, the force causing him to drop the Fire Witch whilst staggering, and that was when Sir Kirby gripped his halberd sideways, hands spread apart along the shaft, and tackled into the monster's waist, knocking the beast down to its back.

The Winged Knight tossed his halberd away, then mounted the monster's chest, withdrew his Winged Knight Twinaxes, which were huge axes that broadened towards the edge but had short handles, the axes having concave edges. Kirby began hacking the beast's face with his twinaxes, driving the axes one after the other repeatedly. The Catarina Knights wasted no time and started chopping at the monster's legs, the Lothric Knight driving his spear into the beast's neck to help hold him down. The monster repeatedly clubbed his hands into the Winged Knight's helm and cuirass and axes, intercepting the arms to dissipate some momentum.

The Fire Witch the monster slammed into the ground by this time picked herself up, found her halberd, and walked through the chains, summoning a pillar of flames to erupt beneath the monster, the heat causing the four knights to lean away from it but Kirby remained mounted on the beast, the monster shaking and kicking as the flames sizzled, so the Winged Knight continued hacking at the monster's face.

Mary cast Deep Protection again, to be sure it was always active. She overheard the Fire Witches at the balconies scream with their voices of howling wind, so she spun around, seeing through the chains and their links that groups of fleshy monsters jumped off the rooftops, landing atop the Fire Witches at the balconies and piling them. The Fire Witch on the street was also piled by fleshy monsters who dropped from above, which was confusing for Mary.

"What? Did they just fall from the sky?" the Evangelist asked herself, paused for a second, and then slowly looked up, seeing the Darksign sun high in the sky behind all the machinery.

Much to her surprise and fright, very many fleshy monsters were climbing down the chains, some climbing downwards heads down, others sliding down, some swinging or jumping down here to there, and several already landed on the street. A few fleshy monsters let go and plummeted towards Mary, so she quickly cast the Force miracle, blasting them and nearby chains away, the chains then swinging back and forth, a few flicking at random directions.

"Look out! They're coming from above!" Mary screamed, one fleshy monster charging her, so she clubbed her book against its head and then kneed it in the sternum, but it nevertheless grabbed her by the legs and pulled her down.

Mary quickly recited a prayer and her body engulfed in flames, yet did not burn away her clothes or body, and she dropped her whip and tome, and grabbed the fleshy monster and started punching it, the beast clubbing her back, but soon the flames burned it beyond its pain tolerance, and it jumped away. Several other fleshy monsters piled Kirby, stomping, clawing and punching her, but her self-immolation that did not harm her soon kept them back. She cast Force against, not needing a scroll as she memorized the prayer and was quite holy herself, her Force blasting her foes away as well as her fiery covering outwards, which burned the beasts.

Not wanting to be swarmed, Kirby picked up her tome and whip, putting her whip away, and then ran towards the four knights, who were fighting the big fleshy monster, exchanging swings, the Catarina Knights punching their spiked shields into the monster's own punching or attempted grabbing, the Lothric Knight's greatshield blocking everything, and the knights attacking the beast's arms, legs and body whenever they could. Kirby was up-close to the monster, trying to hack through its legs, but the damn machinery that was infused with its body reinforced its skeleton, serving as a kind of internal armour.

"Did you hear me? More of the fleshy monsters are coming down from above!" Mary yelled, Kirby looking up, and then two normal fleshy monsters landed on his shoulders, clawing at his helm.

The Lothric Knight looked up, resting the butt of his spear on the ground, a fleshy monster landing on it, sliding down the shaft, so the knight lifted his shield and struck the top of his shield into the monster. Siegward rolled out of the way, a fleshy monster landing where he once stood, and then he unleashed the power of Storm Ruler upwards, blasting away a few fleshy monsters. Sieglinde ignored the fleshy monster, running up to the big fleshy monster, which was panting and obviously tired, and then she preformed a jumping attack, chopping her bastard sword into the monster's front; it then kicked her, armour shuffling as it received the kick.

Sir Kirby was unable to free himself, so he turned around, and then began spinning the other direction, twinaxes striking the many chains and causing sparks, his twirling throwing the fleshy monsters off himself, and then he continued his ballet of blades, his revolutions hacking into the big fleshy monster and several others that charged them recklessly. Many fleshy monsters appeared, either running on all fours from the various streets or alleys, or sliding, climbing, or jumping down the chains from above.

"This does not look good!" Sieglinde called, punching her spiked buckler into a fleshy monster that fell atop her, she then pushing it off herself, then swinging her bastard sword vertically in an overhand manner, the blade clinking against some chains, but hit the fleshy monster in the head and split its skull apart.

"They make quite the performance!" Siegward exclaimed, slashing Storm Ruler across three fleshy monsters that fell at him, and then he spinning around and backhanding his shield into one. The monsters, despite being cut open pretty bad, clubbed at Siegward and others swarmed him.

Mary cast Deep Protection and then Force, blasting back several more fleshy monsters, but more kept on coming, so she kept unleashing Force at them! A pillar of flames suddenly erupted, blasting a group of charging fleshy monsters in the air, a lone Fire Witch standing a distance away, behind her perhaps a hundred Pontiff Knights.

"Looks like you need a little help!" the Fire Witch exclaimed, being the same one that spoke in the previous chapter. At that, the one-hundred Pontiff Knights charged, some with curved sword and shield, some with swords in both hands, others with scythes, all of them moving through the rattling chains and kicking blood about, and then they began dancing with their weapons, slicing into chains and fleshy monsters alike.

A large group of fleshy monsters charged the Pontiff Knights, monsters at the front diving into legs, then those behind jumping over those who dove to leap upon the Pontiff Knights, and the next rank of fleshy monsters jumped over those who had already jumped, and so on. The Pontiff Knights with scythes held them low with the blade facing up, swinging the scythe upwards, stabbing into the fleshy monsters midair and pulling them off to the sides.

"Ah! Oh! We have reinforcements!" Siegward exclaimed as he fought the horde, swarmed so closely he could barely move, but he fought with headbutting, knee strikes, and punching with his shield and curved pommel of his sword, and summoned the power of Storm Ruler whenever able, the magic blowing back up to a dozen or so fleshy monsters in lines.

The fight quickly became a brawl, with fleshy monsters grappling, biting, headbutting, clawing, and flailing their limbs about, knocking Pontiff Knights' crowns off their heads, whilst the Pontiff Knights danced with their freezing-imbued weapons, ice forming on those they cut, though freezing a wound would just prevent bleeding.

The Fire Witch looked to the side, seeing a wave of fleshy monsters crawling over the rooftops, jumping off the houses to join the fray, some landing near the Winged Knight, Sir Kirby spinning around and around, hacking into many fleshy monsters and cutting off arms and heads. The Fire Witch continued casting fiery magic that exploded from the ground, explosion throwing several or more fleshy monsters into the air, some catching the chains while midair to support themselves. Not hesitating herself, Mary continued casting Force and Emit Force at her enemies, but also cast Great Heal and Deep Protection for herself and her allies.

However, Mary soon got tired, and was swarmed by many fleshy monsters, but the big hen remained on her feet, punching and kneeing anything that moved. Kirby, who had stopped spinning and felt that he would start puking, saw Mary in trouble, she punching and pushing fleshy monsters away from her, but there were too many fleshy monsters. Mary resorted to holding her tome with both hands and using it as an awkward club, but constantly feeling the monsters clubbing, grabbing, biting, and clawing her felt so uncomfortable, but her mail armour, mask and hat kept her from being ripped apart.

"Hold on, Mary! I'm coming, keep using your magic!" Sir Kirby yelled, and so trampled over fleshy monsters in his way, slowing him down, but his mass, weight, and twinaxes made sure nothing could stop him.

Mary cast Force, blasting all fleshy monsters attacking her back, one getting up quickly and leaping at her, extending its arms, so the Evangelist headbutted the incoming monster midair, causing him to flip over herself. Before the other fleshy monsters could charge her again, Mary cast Force, blowing them away, she panting and sweating profusely. Being huge and fat had its limits on stamina. Unable to keep up with the fleshy monsters, Mary quickly read a line from her book, and she became engulfed with flames, and just like last time, this kind of pyromancy could not damage her, but the flames could burn others. This prevented the fleshy monsters from doing much, but some still swatted their claws at her. Mary cast Deep Protection again, and then Great Heal, feeling her wounds heal within moments.

Sir Kirby yelled, jumping into the cluster of fleshy monsters surrounding Kirby, his little wings flapping as strongly as they could, and then he began hacking his axes into them, feeling them clubbing and tackling him in all directions, and so he continued chopping at them. He readied himself and started spinning like a top, and immediately began loping limbs and heads. Stepping away from the twirling knight, Mary cast Emit Force to blew away some fleshy monsters.

The Catarina Knights fought in their standard style against the fleshy monsters, whilst the big fleshy monster walked around, sometimes stepping on the normal-sized fleshy monsters, looking for a means to fight without harming its own brethren. Soon, the Catarina Knights were overwhelmed by sheer numbers, and pulled off their feet and piled. They continued fighting even on the ground, Siegward using the power of Storm Wind to blast the horrid beasts off himself, but Sieglinde was rather stuck under so much weight, feeling the beasts repeatedly stomping and headbutting her. A fleshy monster then stomped on Siegward's sword, holding it against the street, and then pulled it out of Siegward's grasp.

"Oh! I'm in quite the pickle now! Being stuck under so many monstrosities and weaponless! Now this is the riddle for the ages! Wait, don't give up, just think! Think hard!" Siegward said to himself, trying to figure out how to free himself, fleshy monsters' skulls and hands thudding against his helm and armour.

Meanwhile, the Fire Witch was casting pyromancy at the fleshy monsters, and then at the big fleshy monster, the burst of fire underfoot causing him to skip away, whilst some Pontiff Knights in the rear of the formation drank potions and burped out dark magical projectiles at the beasts. Angered, the huge monstrosity ran forwards steadily, stepping on fleshy monsters and Pontiff Knights, some Pontiff Knights with scythes raising them to cut into the big fleshy monster as it ran passed them, stepping on more Pontiff Knights and fleshy monsters. Seeing the big brute coming, the Fire Witch cast pyromancy at him, but it only made him angrier, the huge monster snarling and breathing heavily, so the Fire Witch gave him another fireball to the face.

Irritated, the big fleshy monster jumped up, each hand grasping a handful of chains, and he climbed up them, until he disappeared amidst them, but whenever he moved through the chains, the chains below obviously shook and swung about, revealing where he was climbing. The Fire Witch looked up, but it was too dark to see exactly where the big fleshy monster was, so she cast a torrent of flames to flow continuously overhead.

The Lothric Knight, who was unable to retrieve his spear as it got stuck in a monster's body, by this time had unsheathed his greatsword, holding it in one hand, swinging it low to cut into the legs of multiple fleshy monsters, and shielding himself or bashing his greatshield, but he also utilized push kicking, shoulder-bashing, headbutting, and knee strikes, armoured body parts causing some damage, but was constantly feeling the fleshy monsters striking his helm. Soon, he and some Pontiff Knights were overwhelmed, the monsters grabbing them and pulling them down, piling them.

Fortunately, jogging to the scene were another hundred or so Pontiff Knights, led by three Fire Witches, the three arrived Fire Witches casting more of their iconic pyromancy at the horde of fleshy monsters, which seemed to only be growing with greater numbers every second. Nevertheless, the Pontiff Knights marched forth, ready for hell, but then everyone felt the ground shaking. Powerfully heavy footfall echoed behind the arrived knights, some of them turning around to see what was making all that noise.

The commotion attracted the Fire Witch who could talk, the chains shaking all around her, and she stopped her torrent of flames and looked down the street, seeing the reinforcements approaching, but seeing the silhouette of a gigantic beast behind them, the source of what was shaking the ground.

"Vordt's coming." the Fire Witch remarked.


	6. Unbeliever - Boreal Beast

**Unbeliever, part 5**

 **Big, Bad, Brutal, Bloody, Boreal Beast**

A rather big silhouette of a crawling beast gradually appeared down the street, accompanied by heavy breathing, metallic shuffling, clanking, thudding, the breath of the beast so cold it caused the blood flowing along the road to curdle. Soon, a pair of glowing white, wide, narrow eyes appeared, shining in the darkness, positioned rather low to the ground, for the beast crawled with his head low. He wielded a huge flanged mace, perhaps seven feet long, held in one hand downward.

The armoured monster was perhaps twenty feet long, with a massive body but rather short limbs. His armour covered his completely, featuring extreme ridges and grooves, ridged and grooved laminations, and the sides of the backplate each had an immense protrusive ridge, as did the pauldrons, making the armour look like quite jagged, as if having been moulded from molten rock.

The helm resembled a monstrous face or mask, somewhat looking like the face of an angry tiger but with sunken cheeks, and having wide narrow holes for the eyes, the helm seemingly possessing laminations overlapping from top to bottom, also forming a grotesque nose and chin.

Flowing out behind the back of the helm—presumably where the helm met the bevor—was long white hair, once simply consisted of a number of frozen white strands, but now it had grown into a curtain of frosted white hair hanging down the backplate in-between the protrusive ridges, but some hair hung down over the sides of the helm, dragging along the street and getting wet in the running blood.

Whenever the monster moved, tiny icicles and snowflakes fluttered off his armour, and the armour appeared to be causing condensation or releasing ice fog, though the armour did not seem to be undergoing crystallization. The armour did not seem to possess any rivets, straps, pivots, charnels, hinges or fasteners, or anything else to hold it together or onto the body, so it seemed that the armour either moulded or froze onto the body. Perhaps the Pontiff's eye transformed the victim in such a way that even one's armour changed?

Not wanting to get in Vordt's way, the Fire Witches and Pontiff Knights split up, each half going to either side to give Vordt space, their movement through the chains causing the chains to sway and rattle, but the fighting against the fleshy beasts continued, some charging down the aisle of knights while growling, but some used the chains as swings to dodge the attacks of the knightly enemies, Fire Witches blasting their pyromancy constantly, hurling fleshy monsters into the air, but most caught the chains and pulled themselves off somewhere.

Despite Vordt's size, a few fleshy monsters charged him anyways, tackling into his front, and simply bounced off his hulking frame. Vordt huffed, and then charged forth suddenly and rapidly, trampling through the horde of fleshy monsters and the occasional Pontiff Knight that got in the way, Vordt's titanic sabatons and gauntlets crushing anything they went upon.

Vordt moved through the chains with such force they swung about, and he began swinging his gigantic flanged mace and exhaling coldness in all directions, mace breaking through some chains, thudding against fleshy monster's and sending them flying away with broken bodies, and his movement meaning his armour smashed into the beasts as well. Whenever he swung his mace in both hands downwards, it crushed the targeted meat monster against the street, and with such force it was as if Vordt's mace passed through red jelly, splashing blood apart. Within seconds, Vordt was drenched in blood, which quickly curdled from the coldness of his armour, and torn bits of bone, marrow, and muscles stuck on the flanges of his mace.

The commotion surprised the fleshy monsters, many of whom turned their attention to face the much larger threat, and many charged him, leaping at him, Vordt swinging his mace and crawling and jumping about like a giant savage animal, swatting his mace and left hand into the incoming jumpers while they were midair, but he also headbutted and preformed spinning kicks and sweep kicks into his many foes. Sometimes, he would grab a beast with his free hand, and squeeze with such strength, his fingers sunk through flesh and gripped bones, and so while gripping a handful of flesh and bone, Vordt could threw the monster away, or rip it open, or toss it in the air and smash it with his mace or with a headbutt.

A dozen or so fleshy monsters managed to dive into Vordt's side, so he rolled sideways over them, crushing them, and then he crawled forth quickly, diving into a group of fleshy monsters, and then gripping his mace in both hands and swinging it around and around while spinning and exhaling his icy breath, the mace breaking more chains. His extreme cold breath affected some of the monsters significantly, causing their movement to slow down, and when Vordt struck them, their bodies shattered, the surface of the monsters' tissue frozen but their insides wet and bloody.

When Vordt finished swinging wildly, mace now looking like a spatula for a mixing bowl full of body parts, all around him was a pile of broken meaty monstrosities. Suddenly, the big semi-mechanical fleshy monster fell from above, landing atop Vordt's back and shoulders, putting him in a headlock. Not expecting that to happen, Vordt jumped up and fell onto his back, great weight crashing down upon the big fleshy monster, armour cracking against machinery, but the big beast remained clinched onto him. Immediately, many more fleshy monsters charged Vordt now that he was distracted, clubbing and headbutting whatever they could, but their concussive bodily attacks did little. Vordt rolled side to side, weight squishing the meaty monsters against the street, but he would have a hard time getting the big fleshy monster off his back.

Meanwhile, the commotion allowed Mary to cast Force, and blew away the beasts harassing her, then she continued casting Forceful Miracles to keep them away from her. She overheard Fire Witches' grunts as they cast magic, the Pontiff Knights drinking their strange potions to belch out odd projectiles, and the dancing of the Pontiff Knights' fighting style, but some Fire Witches and the Pontiff Knights with them were piled and taken down, but the Fire Witches continued casting their Pyromancy even when taken off their feet. Feeling the heat of pillars of erupting flames, Mary stomped away, pushing and shoving through the mass of fleshy monsters while casting Forcee, seeing Winged Knight Sir Kirby spinning around and around, twinaxes cleaving through flesh and bone, also hitting the chains near him and causing sparks.

"These damn chains are so annoying!" the Evangelist complained, for she had to constantly move through the forest of hanging chains, wondering where her two-handed holy-water-sprinkler was, as she could not see where it had been caught by the links. Mary instead happened to find a Pontiff Knight Scythe lying nearby, and picked that up, and started swinging it low, underneath the hanging chains, to cut at the legs of the beasts, but also push-kicked and shoved the beasts away. She was glad to notice that most of the fleshy creatures focused on Vordt, some of them e en crawling passed her, others swinging along the chains.

"Where are the other knights?" Kirby shouted as his ballet of bloody brutality continued.

"I don't know where the Catarina Knights or the Lothric Knight are!" Mary yelled back, Emitting Force at a few fleshy monsters and blasting them away, then overhearing the chains rattle and ran away before fleshy monsters from above could fall on her, then Emitted Force at them.

The Winged Knight push-kicked a fleshy monster over, walked over it, and then trampled his way towards Mary to regroup with her, and the two went back-to-back to continue the fight, Mary ushering Deep Protection again, then continuing a steady stream of Forceful miracles and scything attacks, whilst Kirby swung his twinaxes one after the other repeatedly.

"I thought you said these chains attack anything? They're not attacking the Pontiff Knights!" Kirby shouted.

"I thought they did! I think the effects of the Deep, and Aldritch, and Sulyvahn, can all be protection from the machinery!" Kirby shouted back, sweeping her scythe to and fro across the legs of fleshy monsters, some of them crawling away backwards, then spinning around to charge Vordt.

"Where do they all keep come from, dammit!" the talking Fire Witch complained, overhearing Vordt's struggling, the streets echoing with the sounds of violence and growling and magic, she seeing several after several fleshy monsters blasted into the air by her own and the other Fire Witches' Pyromancy, but the horde of meaty monsters seemed to be endless.

A few Pontiff Knights with curved swords in either hand spun around and around, as if dancing together,their icy, holed blades cutting apart fleshy monsters that charged them, but even the Undead and Hollows had a limit to their stamina and endurance, and one by one, were tackled off their feet and had their skulls gnawed on.

The intense use of Pyromancy cast by the Fire Witches soon put a few homes on fire, not even frozen stone able to subdue the flames, and one by one, nearby homes caught fire, flames and smoke flowing out their chimneys and windows. The Hollows inside shrieked, most running out their homes, only to be dog piled by fleshy monsters and becoming their chew toys.

Roaring while coldness flowed out his helm, Vordt grabbed a few chains with his left hand and pulled himself up, the big fleshy monster and a few other normal fleshy monsters still on him, so Vordt charged across the street, trampling over anything, then tackled into a burning house, breaking through it, and it collapsed upon him.

Having caused much chaos amongst the ranks of the meaty monstrosities, the Pontiff Knights and Fire Witches reorganized themselves and continued the fight. Fire Witch Pyromancy swooshed and burst, causing chains to sway, Pontiff Knights danced with blades, weapons dashing blood and dancing feet kicking blood from the streets, and some of those who had been dog piled were freed, helped up, and rejoined the fight.

"Oh-hoh! Good things do happen to those who wait!" Siegmeyer exclaimed once freed by some Pontiff Knights who cut apart several of the fleshy monsters. The Lothric Knight the next to be saved, having lost his great shield and spear (his spear was still impaled through the fleshy monster that landed upon in) during the fighting, so now wielded his great sword and kite shield, Lothric Knight Sword and a dagger sheathed at his belt. He nodded to his savours, who nodded back, their frosty hair and skeletal faces dripping blood.

"Were it you who rescued me?" Sieglinde asked once the fleshy monsters piling her were dealt with, she picking herself and looking around, but the Pontiff Knights said nothing, only nodding while the hundred or so Pontiff Knights danced as a wall of spinning blades, behaving like an avalanche of butchery.

Since the fleshy monsters wore no armour and had just their claws, when they extended their arms to attack, these were simply cut off, and then the Pontiff Knights stepped in to sweep their curved swords or scythes into the body or lop off other limbs. The Fire Witches continued casting Pyromancy, as well as sometimes swinging their spiky polearms over the shoulders of the Pontiff Knights to stab into the head or shoulders of the fleshy monsters, sometimes ramming the spike into a monster's skull and then casting fire magic into it.

Elsewhere, Vordt emerged from the house he crashed into, and the big fleshy monster did likewise nearby. The two hulking beasts stood in the burning rubble, eyeing one another, the big fleshy monster snapping his jaws once at the armoured beast-knight. Vordt huffed, then raised his mace in both hands as to swung it down, but the big fleshy monster suddenly tackled into him, and with such force crashed into the wall of the next home, breaking through it, but this house did not collapse.

Inside the house, the big fleshy monster put his hands on Vordt's pauldrons and held him down, and repeatedly started headbutting Vordt's helm. Irked, the boreal knight exhaled his frozen breath, freezing the big monster's face, but he nevertheless continued headbutting Vordt, shards of ice and bits of frozen blood and flesh fluttering about. Unable to do much, Vordt clubbed the butt of his mace repeatedly into the big fleshy monster, and then Vordt kicked his hips upward, grabbing the monster's arm and pulling it as strongly as he could, pulling the monster over a bit. Vordt then quickly grabbed the beast's throat, gauntlets cracking the trachea, and then Vordt pushed the monster into the wall while rolling sideways.

Now on all fours, Vordt blasted his icy breath upon the big fleshy monster while crawling backwards, exiting the house broken into, the big fleshy monster's surface area gradually freezing, until it could no longer kick or crawl. Vordt crawled backwards out the house, regaining himself, feeling the suspended chains clinking against his armour, and then suddenly spun around while swinging his mace through the air, and batted aside a few fleshy monsters, then jumped upon a wave of more of the meaty monstrosities, and continued fighting in his typical fashion, pillars of flame erupting all around him and hurling fleshy monsters in the air, and Vordt was polite enough to headbutt, tackle or club the beasts midair.

"We better leave him a lot of room before his rage sends him into our ranks!" the talking Fire Witch shouted with a voice of wind, and most Pontiff Knights and other Fire Witches obeyed, keeping their distance from the boreal beast as much as they could while fighting the hordes of fleshy monsters.

The house behind Vordt ave way, breaking apart, and the big fleshy monster inside break through it, frosty but now moving, his mechanical parts a little damaged but still working in his body. The big fleshy monster leaned forwards, spread his arms, and roared, saliva and blood flowing out his big jaws. Vordt spun around and roared back, then charged, the big fleshy monster also charging, both of them tackling into on another, helm smashing into skull, shoulder striking shoulder, and weight going against weight.

Vordt, wearing so much armour, was heavier than the big fleshy monster, but the meaty beast outstretched his legs while leaning forwards, both big monsters pushing against one another, Vordt gradually pushing his foe backwards. Deciding to use Vordt's weight against him, the big fleshy monster quickly ducked under Vordt's arm while pulling Vordt, causing the big fellow to shift forwards and lose balance. Vordt immediately bent both knees to stabilize himself, and then flailed his head backwards, the back of his helm thudding against the big fleshy monster's face and causing him to stagger. This was when Vordt managed to swing his mace into the monster's head, flanges digging into bone and metal, the impact wet and loud, the big fleshy monster's legs kicking out and he fell over.

Vordt roared, pulling his mace backwards and feeling it move aside some chains, raised it in both hands, and swung it down as powerfully as he could. The big fleshy monster grabbed some chains in both hands and pulled them across himself, getting in the way of the mace, stifling the momentum and stopping the mace. The monster then grabbed the mace by the end in both hands and pulled on it. Unwilling to lose his weapon, Vordt lumbered forth, dropping an armoured knee into the monster's crotch, grabbed the monster's right arm and held it down, and then began headbutting the monster repeatedly in the face, breaking some teeth and fracturing the skull where the flanges already shattered.

Feeling its blood and brains leaking out its skull, the big fleshy monster began headbutting back, the monster's skull gradually breaking open, the mechanical parts bending inward from the huge strikes that would easily kill a man in a single blow. Roaring, Vordt grabbed his mace in both hands by its handle and ripped it out of the monster's grip, then rammed the butt-spike of the mace into the monster's skull, penetrating the bone and pinning him into the ground. The big fleshy monster screeched, but was still alive, smashing its palms into the sides of Vordt's helm over and over again.

Irritated, Vordt let go of his mace, then curled his fingers into the holes in the skull, and then began pulling the skull apart, slowly hearing the bone and flesh ripping, and as the skull was pulled asunder, blood and brains dashed out, Vordt feeling the monster's skull snap apart and his hands were now pushing against the street. The mace remained lodged into the ground, so Vordt grabbed it, ripped it out the ground, and looked around.

The situation had not changed much, but the Pontiff Knights and Fire Witches contained the area, most fleshy monsters either dead or dying, those who were wounded easy to finish off by the Fire Witches' Pyromancy or the Pontiff Knights' blade-dancing. The Catarina Knights, Lothric Knight, Winged Knight, and the Evangelist regrouped with a Fire Witch and several Pontiff Knights to continue the fight.

"Ha! Looks like we are beating them off!" Sir Kirby bellowed as he marched into the mass of fleshy monsters, trampling upon them while chopping his twinaxes into their skulls and arms, Mary aiding him by casting Forceful Miracles, the Fire Witch shooting a torrent of flames, and all other knights fighting in their usual style.

Even when maimed or several wounded, the fallen fleshy monsters would continue fighting, crawling around or grabbing at the Undead whenever they got close enough, but being on the ground, were easily stomped upon and beheaded. Soon, most of the Undead resorted to walking upon the dead fleshy monsters and defeated Pontiff Knights, the animate Pontiff Knights unable to dance with as much grace due to the ground covered with corpses, but they could still fight in a standard style.

"Everyone OK?" Mary asked aloud, then began casting Miracles of Healing and Deep Protection, having noticed that most of the chains were swaying on their own. "Watch out for those chains! I think the machines are coming back to life!" she warned.

As Vordt walked around, titanic feet crushing skulls and bones wherever he crawled, he could see several groups of dozens of fleshy monsters crawling and jumping along the rooftops. The meaty monstrosities observed and learned, now taking the situation is a more cautious approach. Polyphonic howling, hissing and roaring sounded, echoing throughout the streets, the fleshy monsters making lots of noise for some reason. Vordt roared back at them, icy breath fuming out his helm, but how could he reach the monsters on the rooftops?

Looking carefully, glowing white eyes beaming, Vordt noticed that one street led to the Church of Yorshka, so the cathedral would be a short distance away. Perhaps he should pay Sulyvahn a visit?


	7. Exegesis - Resurrection

**Exegesis, part 1**

 **Resurrection**

The cloudy sky was mostly blocked out by fluttering ashes and cinders, the matter of those burning remains causing much darkness, but the morning sun's rays shone through here and there during brief breaks in those swirling masses, the beams of sunlight illuminating the scenery along the ground, as if having spasms to touch any surface.

Covered with ashes and cinders, the ground was a desert of gray mixed with tiny embers, having spent a long time piling over what appeared to be a craggy volcano both huge and horrible overlooking a sea, the ashes having accumulated so high they reached the canopy of the dead forest. The volcano was active, bellowing smoke out its top, emitting ashes and fumes, adding to the already ashen environment of Lothric, though this place was undoubtedly a nameless area, somewhere along the mountain ranges, which ended before a sea.

Sticking out the side of the mountaintop, was a giant, dead, gnarly, burr oak tree, fifty feet in width and perhaps three hundred feet tall, leaning over so acutely it was a mystery why it did not just fall off the slope and into the waters below. The mighty tree stretched up into the heavens, and was rather cloaked by the fluttering ashes, rising smoke, and the clouds it pierced. This big tree arched over the mountainside facing the sea, and since the sun was rising from the sea, the tree cast a giant shadow down the other side of the mountain.

The mighty tree had immense roots that visibly snaked beneath the accumulated ash, forming ridges under the ashes, but the roots that grew into the volcano were on fire, though the wood appeared to be of such mighty timber that it could not fully burn away, even when touched by lava. Although quite dark due to the ashes flying everywhere and blocking out the sky, the lava cast light upwards, illuminating the mountaintop and the giant tree sticking out of it, the echoes of waves breaking against the crags down below providing a solemn lullaby.

The sea stretched beyond the gray horizon, the salty liquid carpeted with ashes, which flicked about on the mountainside as the waves splashed into the rocky surface. Curiously enough, bubbles rose from underwater here and there, even forming steam, whatever burning on the seafloor causing the waters to boil in a few spots. Lava also leaked out a few cracks in the mountainside, flowing into the ashy sea and audibly sizzling.

Along the crags of the mountainsides, small to immense sarcophagi protruded, nearly resembling natural features of the mountain. Topped and dusted with ashes, the stone coffins were closed, but all of them had an unusual feature, in that they all leaked blood from the bottom of the lid. Some coffins were placed, or geological activity moved them, sideways, diagonally, or in various positions. One coffin was slanted acutely, having broken open, split asunder down the middle, lid having fallen off some time ago, but the coffin was empty.

However, this broken sarcophagus had an interior that was quite bloody, as if whoever was inside, had been streaking one's hands everywhere inside the coffin, and smeared blood everywhere. Bloody footprints were visible along the ashy surface, the feet having sunk up to several inches into the ash-filled ground, essentially behaving like hot snow.

As for the other coffins, they continued leaking blood out from the gaps between the lid and edge, the leaking blood gradually opening the lids, bit by bit, but where was all that blood coming from? Numerous tiny torrents of blood flowed along the ashy ground, sizzling whenever it touches cinders, the blood quickly covered with the ashen mists. Since these torrents of blood spanned perhaps a few hundred meters, the coffins were bleeding for quite a while at least. But what was going on? Was there anything, sorcery or miracles, in Lordran, Drangleic, or Lothric, that had anything to do with this? Some coffins made noises. Whoever were inside, muffled, groaned, and audibly thudded the inside of the lids that locked them in, definitely having quite the wake-up call.

Another cast shadow appeared, moving around. Up above, something of modest size, larger than a human, was flying through the ashy air, having a devilish silhouette. The flying thing, a devil for sure, seemed to be gliding around. Oddly enough, blood rained down wherever the devil flew, touching fluttering ashes and cinders as they fell, spattering onto the ground below wherever it flew. Since the trail of fallen blood along the ashen ground spanned as far as the eye could see, the devil had flown a great distance from somewhere along the mountain range.

Eventually, the flying thing swooped down and landed nearby the base of the volcano, the landing causing ashes from the ashen ground to be swept and blown about due to the downwards force caused by his twenty-foot wingspan. After landing, the devil's wings twitched continuously, probably due to overuse. The devil was quite peculiar, in that he resembled a nine-foot-tall bipedal dragon, whose scales and skin had been ripped off, leaving him in a fleshy, skinless, red form; he did not even have lips, cheeks, eyelids, or feathers, or anything else that dragons and Demons may possess. He was not the largest or tallest monster in this wold for sure, and he was quite slim, having a narrow waistline, but had visibly muscular limbs.

Without any external covering for his flesh and bones, the devil was covered with ashes, and he was constantly bleeding everywhere, the blood already dripping down his wings, tail and shoulders, pooling around his feet, which also rinsed off some ashes, but there were always more ashes to stick onto his wet frame. His heart beat loudly, his body audibly dripping blood, and he breathed like a set of bellows, each breath inhaling and then exhaling mouthfuls of ashes, blood and cinders. If he were not covered with ashes, his nervous system, muscles, tendons, bones, and ligaments would be visible. His eye sockets were empty, his eye sockets and mouth constantly leaking blood steadily, like little fountains, drenching his front. How his body produced so much blood was a mystery; perhaps his body was infused with hyperactive cellular division.

This devil had large horns that stuck out his temples and then curved upwards and backwards, and a ten-foot-long reptilian tail. Possessing talon-like feet, claws at the ends of his toes and fingers, he could obviously deliver nasty scratches, but he was unarmed, unarmoured, and naked. At least he was a reptilian being, so his reproductive organs were internal and so not visible despite he being skinless. Not quite Seath the Scaleless, but scaleless nonetheless, though fleshy and bloody instead of bright and crystalline.

The devil relaxed, folding his wings behind himself and then crossing his arms, leaning slightly to the side as a woman would, and looked up the volcano, his empty eye sockets scanning the place. He seemed to sense the blood and the sarcophagi, and upon thinking of the stone coffins, huffed and then walked forth, kicking his feet out the ashes he landed into, and then each step sinking deeply into the ashes underfoot.

The devil ascended the mountain, slowly, which was no easy task due to the steepness, crags, and drop-offs, however, with his clawed toes, he gripped surfaces with his talons, as a bird would to catch prey, and so he could form firm grip with his feet. Also, using his tail and wings as a counterbalance, he kept himself from falling. Despite being wet and slippery from the constant bleeding, he was quite good at keeping balance, perhaps no surprise, as he was also a being who could fly and so learned balance at a young age. He kept staring at the treetops sticking out of the ashes as he walked; had that much ashes really fell? Piling so high they reached the canopy?

Eventually, the devil approached the broken coffin, the same broken coffin as described earlier, overhearing the entombed thudding against their stony prisons. He noticed that, the closer he got to the sarcophagi, the louder those inside groaned and struggled, and the blood leaking out the coffins intensified as well. At that, the devil stopped, noticing just that. He cocked his head slowly and turned it to the side, and if he still had eyes, they would be staring at the sarcophagi ahead.

The devil looked down, watching the tiny torrents of blood flowing from every singe sarcophagus he could see, even hearing the red fluid seeping through the immense carpet of ashes that were everywhere. He just stood there, feeling himself bleeding, feeling the flying ashes everywhere tickle his fleshy, skinless body, feeling the occasional cinder sizzle into him, feeling his feet sinking into the ashy ground, hotly kissed by the cinders in the ashes, and then he noticed the footprints.

Putting two and two together, the devil changed his gaze, and looked at the broken coffin, seeing how bloody it was inside, but somehow, whoever was entombed, managed to break free, probably when geological activity shifted, this was an active volcano after all. However, the falling ashes filled the footprints, and soon, they would disappear. Nonetheless, the devil could smell the blood in the footprints, but he did not care about whoever walked away, it was not necessarily uncommon for heroes of all backgrounds to suddenly rise from their grave now.

Hearing the muffles and wet noises within the stone coffins, the devil approached the coffins in front of him, approaching a few that were vertically placed on a crag. As he neared the sarcophagi, indeed, those inside felt a greater reaction, squirming with more panic, muffling faster, breathing harder, and bleeding more and more. The devil continued walking, long feet and claws shoving through the ashes, blood dripping everywhere, ashes falling everywhere, until he was perhaps a few feet from the vertically positioned coffins. Those inside felt greater anguish, and their voices became less Hollow, as if the devil's presence made them more alive, yet also provided them with great pain, and so the crimson liquid leaking out each sarcophagus ran quicker. The devil made himself comfortable, loosening up his shoulders, and clasping his hands behind his back.

"Hm, suffering seems to be uncommon in this realm, I suppose this Curse—the Darksign—whatever, well, I suppose Undead and Hollows cannot feel as much pain as they would when fully alive." The devil said to himself, speaking with a deep, gurgling voice, and every word he spoke, blood would gush out, being the reason why his voice gargled, making him sound like a broken leaking gutter pipe trying to speak, and upon talking, the blood that gushed out his mouth streaked upon the ground and bottom of the sarcophagus before him.

The devil looked up, having to bend backwards a bit to behold the immensity of the volcano, seeing the ashes around the treetops he stood amidst, the giant oak tree sticking out the side of the mountain, hearing the waves of the sea, and hearing the volcano rumbling and brewing. He looked down suddenly.

"If ashes and cinders are piled up this high, there is probably enough heat underneath to eventually explode, more than enough fuel to keep the flames going. Why is there such fear of fading flames? Geological activity lasts forever, more than enough heat and friction to form magma and lava, or maybe this realm's flame, has a special quality, a special fire in relation to the Curse. Well then, it is time to make the humans here independent from the Curse!" The devil said to himself rather eagerly, and he leaned over a coffin, hearing the entombed undead inside writhing and groaning, and then he tapped his claws upon the lid in a rhythmic pattern.

Pausing for a second, the devil slowly grasped the side of the lid with his right hand, feeling the sufferer's agony intensify, the person gargling, shaking, and smacking every part of one's body frantically inside, the adjacent coffins having a similar effect for those inside. The devil huffed through his nostrils, feeling blood spurt out of them, and then he flung the coffin open, and with such force he actually hurled the lid off the coffin, sending it flying off to the side, where it landed and sunk into the ashes; at the same time, upon the lid opening, blood flowed out the inside of a coffin, the devil feeling the warm blood rush around his legs.

A great sword fell out the coffin, and then a body appeared in the coffin, long ago once just a forgotten dried-up corpse, but now, flesh and fluid forcefully returned to the body, as if regrowing unnaturally from within. The body was naked, whatever garments the person had once worn, a torn assortment of rags piled at the bottom of the coffin, ripped apart during the victim's frenzy.

The body was that of a young woman it would seem, but she was just a shrivelled-up pink thing that looked like it had slid across a grater a hundred times too much, resembling a Hollow from Lordran, her voice high-pitched and raspy, the little thing breathing in and out rapidly and wildly while twitching. She could not speak, obviously unable to think straight, eye sockets empty, frail, skinny, bony body flopping out the coffin pathetically, the undead lass clawing at herself while bleeding through every vein, blood leaking out her mouth, nose, eye sockets, and ears, but thick blood had also accumulated between her legs, running down her thighs.

In a pathetic attempt to save herself from falling out her stony bed, the Hollow tried to spin around on her heels, as to fall back into her bloodied coffin, but she lost balance and fell out of it anyways, ashes flying through the air sticking onto her, and she flopped into the ashen ground, causing some to poof upwards. Feeling herself covered with ashes, having no idea what was going on, and then feeling cinders sizzle into her fleshy, skinless, bony body, the Hollow girl gasped repeatedly, writhing and flailing herself, the devil watching her suffer, liking to hear embers sizzle and the lass to gasp while blood leaked out her mouth, eye sockets, nose, and ears, face and front drenched in blood.

"Now that's what I call having a bad period!" The devil exclaimed with a chuckle, and then he leaned over the Hollow girl, towering over her and watching her wriggle like a worm on a frying pan, "Pretty fucking goddamn amusing, don'tcha think?" He continued strongly, loudly and in good humour, overhearing the other sufferers in their coffins struggling with greater fervour.

The devil cocked his head, the fleshy Hollow girl quickly covered with ashes that drenched in her blood, and then he looked at the great sword that had fallen out the coffin, and said, "A young woman. Exactly as I expected."

The devil huffed, and walked away, examining the many stone coffins sticking out of the rocky surfaces of the mountainside, or at least the ones visible above the accumulated ashes. As was the case, every time he neared a coffin, the person inside would audibly suffer. He also overheated grunts, growls, and whines, so some of the sufferers in the sarcophagi were animals, probably guard dogs, steeds, or some other faithful companion. He opened several coffins during this time, but those inside had bodies too damaged to be useful, and the corpses lied, broken and in pain.

The devil opened another coffin, this one horizontal, and a big skeletal hound covered with hanging tendons, organs, and muscles jumped out, his jump flicking blood everywhere, and the beast ran off as fast as he could whimpering. Looking into the coffin, the devil saw the mangled corpse of someone lying in a pool of blood, arms, neck and ribs chewed so much that flesh, bones and tendons were hanging out, the skeletal fingers having a few rings. The corpse's stomach was also ripped open, intestines, liver, kidneys, and stomach between the legs. Although torn asunder, the corpse moved a little, fingers twitching, jaw opening and closing slowly, and chewed organs trying to work.

"Oo, magic ring!" The devil exclaimed, leaning into the coffin, grabbing the corpse's forearm, ripping it off the arm, and then the devil bit off a few fingers, and using two claws like pincers, took off one of the rings, and examined it. "Nope, not a magic ring." He tossed it away like he didn't care about anything.

The devil opened another coffin, which was somewhat slanted, simply lifting the lid and pushing it over. A strong-looking Hollow sat up, wearing a hauberk and coif dripping with the wearer's blood, wielding a spear and shield, probably a herald spearman, and looking at the devil with a hiss as blood leaked out his mouth, and then jumped out the coffin, mail jingling. This Hollow did not seem to suffer as much as the others, having fight in him, and although Hollows tended to move slowly and poorly, he managed to utilize his spear and shield to at least be a threat to someone who did not know anything about historic martial arts.

The Hollow thrust his spear while keeping his shield up, and the devil backhanded the spear aside with his right hand, and then going sideways, extended his left arm and placed the palm over the Hollow's face, pushing his left hand to the left while placing his left foot behind the Hollow's legs, and tripped him. As the Hollow fell, the devil, with lightning reflexes, quickly wrapped his left arm around the Hollow's neck so that his elbow was around the front of the Hollow's neck and his left hand behind the Hollow, and then, simply by cranking the arm backwards while lifting the left hand up, utterly cracked the Hollow's neck as if it were a dried stick; the flexibility of mail did not help in this case. The herald twitched and then dropped his shield and spear, going limp.

The devil set the Hollow herald down (the devil's blood dripping onto the Hollow), so that it was on its pelvis and stomach but shoulders raised, the devil placed one knee against the Hollow's back while still keeping it in a lock, and then he reared backwards, pulling the Hollow's upper half body backwards as well, and hearing its spine crack and then snap. The devil let go and stood up, seeing that the Hollow, although lying on his waist, the upper half of his body was folded backwards over it, arms apart, and then the devil stomped once into the Hollow's chest, so that the spinal cord was severed, and now the Hollow's back was flat against the back of his legs. Absorbing the herald's fading soul, the devil figured the herald was dead, if that term was even the right word to use.

Still hearing those trapped in coffins muffle and groan while their blood leaked out the lids, the devil continued his search with his eyeless eye sockets, both holes leaking blood as always. He found one sarcophagus he liked, one that was rather rounded and stood out form most others. He went to it, leaning over it, blood flowing out his mouth and eye sockets leaking onto the lid. The devil was about to open the coffin, but then noticed four Hollows walking towards him. Like other undead in this area, they were affected by something that forced their bodies to grow anew, so their bodies were regaining flesh and blood, and their mouths, eye sockets, noses, and ears bled continuously down their hoods and faces, the front of their robes drenched in blood and spotted with the falling ashes, and their footprints leaving behind blood over the ashen ground.

The Hollows wore bluish robes with hoods, were rather tall, and obviously undead in appearance. Two wielded swords with long hilts but a blade not too long, one had a spear and shield, and one had a crossbow. They walked like puppets and seemed to be the grave keepers or something of this place. They noticed the devil and waddled towards him like a bunch of idiots making zombie-like noises.

Shrugging, the devil bent over and grabbed the dead herald's spear, and threw it like a javelin into the Hollow robed crossbowman. The spear arched through the air and then skewered the crossbowman, passing through his chest and digging into the ashen ground, he leaning backwards from the impact. Nevertheless, he aimed his crossbow and shot it, bolt whizzing in-between the two Hollow swordsmen, and the devil leaned to the side casually, dodging the bolt, and then started to reload his crossbow.

The two Hollow swordsmen waddled forth into a run, raising their swords and intending to hit the devil. And he just stood where he was, pausing, and as the Hollow spearman walked slowly with his shield up, the two swordsmen swung their swords in the most pathetic manner the devil had ever seen, feeling the edges cut his front. Although awkward, the Hollow swordsmen swung their blades quickly and strongly once they were ready to strike, and the blades did more damage than the devil anticipated! He shook his head, and then suddenly push-kicked one Hollow in the knee with such force that it was dislocated, the stomp snapping the Hollow's knee backwards, and the swordsman fell over.

The Hollow swordsman with a broken knee hissed, the other swordsman hitting the devil again, but the devil's body regenerated, the wound starting to heal as soon as it appeared, yet the devil never healing beyond a skinless, fleshy form, oddly enough.

The devil faced the second Hollow swordsman, who thrust his sword, the devil feeling it stab into his sternum, and at the same time, the devil opened his mouth and bit over the Hollow's whole head. Placing his powerful hands on the Hollow's shoulders, the devil pushed powerfully while keeping his jaws locked over the Hollow's head, hearing the neck pop and crack repeatedly, until the head and neck ripped off the Hollow's torso. The devil kept the Hollow's skull in his mouth, and the Hollow crossbowman shot another bolt, which flew into the severed neck of the head in the devil's mouth.

Spitting the skull out, the devil charged the Hollow spearman, seeing the crossbowman reloading again. The spearman stuck his shield and spear out, so the devil waved his left arm aside, knocking the spear away from himself with his forearm but also hitting the shield with his knuckles, and then immediately grasped the bottom of the spearman's left hand (the hand holding the shield) on its outside with his left hand, squeezing it with enough grip to crush the bones, causing the spearman to drop his shield, but he then rammed his spear into the devil's face. The spearhead stabbed into one of the devil's eye sockets, but since it was already empty, there was nothing to stab!

The devil's left hand remained grasped on the Hollow spearman's left forearm, and at the same time, the devil grabbed the spear sticking in his eye with his right hand just below the spearhead, pulled it out of his eye socket and then out of the Hollow's hand, and just as the Hollow looked up as if to complain, the devil's blood dripping off his arm and falling over the Hollow, the devil rammed the butt of the spear downwards into the Hollow's eye, the shaft breaking apart the eyeball, and then sliding down the eye socket, mouth, throat, and entering the stomach. The Hollow spearman fell over, unable to lower his gaze, and he fell over, arms waving about, trying to do something. The devil left him alone and approached the crossbowman.

The Hollow crossbowman reloaded for the third time, keeping his crossbow low, and then suddenly lifted it aimed, and pulled the trigger. The bolt flew into the devil, who put a hand in the way, expecting to be able to pounce upon the crossbowman before he could shoot, but was given the second surprise of the day. Bolt in his palm, the devil ripped the bolt out and then grabbed the prod and pulled the crossbowman out of the Hollow's hands, and threw it away. The Hollow watched his crossbow fling away, and did not seem to know what to do.

After a second, the devil delivered an uppercut into the Hollow's sternum, the Hollow crumbling within and bending over, blood leaking out his mouth, and then the devil slipped behind the crossbowman. Within a second, the devil had curled his arms over the Hollow's shoulders, so that he could not get away, curling his clawed hands under the bottom of the Hollow's ribs, claws digging through the robe, skin and flesh, until the devil could, quite literally, grasp the underside of the rib cage.

"Would you like to spread your wings?" The devil asked, but the Hollow crossbowman said nothing, what could a zombie say?

The devil opened and closed his jaws repeatedly, hearing his lower and upper sets of teeth clicking against each other, and then he pulled his hands upwards strongly and steadily, ripping apart the robe as well as pulling out the bottom half of the Hollow's rib cage. The lungs visible stretched with the ribs, separating from the diaphragm, lungs and diaphragm trying to work as the Hollow gasped and unable to breathe, the Hollow's stomach and colon flopping over the cavity.

The devil then spread his arms while still grasping the halves of the rib cage, which was popping and cracking, breaking off the spinal cord, heart, liver, pancreas and spleen hanging out and still beating as blood gushed out everywhere, and once able, the devil kicked the Hollow in the back, forcing him to fall flat on his face, his rib cage now split in half vertically and spread apart on the ashen ground. The devil rubbed his hands together, feeling his skinless, bloody palms slide off one another.

"Now, where was I?" The devil asked himself, as not much had changed; he could still overhear the sufferers in their coffins thudding and moaning, could still hear that young Hollow woman squirming in the ashes behind him trying to relieve even a tiny bit of pain, and he could still feel fluttering ashes flying into his face and body.

Then, he noticed something. One of the coffins nearby, one leaning against a crag, began to open by itself, and whoever was inside, was not suffering from agony. The devil faced that coffin, stood up straight, clasped his hands behind his back, and waited.


	8. Exegesis - Unexpected Encounter

**Exegesis, part 2**

 **Unexpected Encounter**

Patiently waiting for the coffin to open, the Hollow young woman writhing in anguish behind him, and blood pouring out the coffin as it opened, and suddenly the lid was hurled off, and with such force it actually smacked into the devil.

"Aw, what the fuck!" The devil grumbled, the lid knocking him over and landing atop him, his wings, tail and legs spread apart and visibly sticking out from under the lid.

Pushing the lid off himself, hearing it fall into the ashen ground, the skinless monster picked himself up, covered in ashes, but his bleeding body soon flushed the ashes away. Inside the opened sarcophagus was dark, so the devil stepped forth to see what was so curious about it, the young Hollow behind him groaning as she squirmed through the ashes while cinders sizzled her bloody body.

Walking towards the coffin, the devil could hear someone moving around inside, but some sort of swirly darkness filled-in the coffin, and then it suddenly jumped out, screeching so loud it could cause eardrums to bleed!

"Aw, what the fuck!" The devil ushered again, definitely not expecting some weird shadowy snake-thing to jump out the coffin and attack him! The dark mass flailed the side of its head into the devil, knocking him down, and then began smashing itself into the fallen devil, its head thudding against him and hammering him deeper into the ashy ground and causes the ashes to flurry around everywhere.

Resembling some sort of blackened, shadowy mass with a gigantic serpentine head on the end that wrapped and bugled around a robed figure, the giant serpentine head opened its mouth and writhed forth to bite the devil's head off, but he instinctively punched it in the face as it tried doing so. The shadowy beast huffed upon being punched, lifting its neck and so also raising its rather huge head, revealing what its host looked like. The ashes fluttering from the sky dotted the creature and whatever its body was made out of.

The mass of darkness was, apparently, wrapped around the torso of a wizard, who was Hollow, his robe dark and drenched with blood, his Hollowed skull leaking blood out the eye sockets, jaw, nasal cavity, and ears, unsurprisingly. The wizard had long frizzy white hair and a longer beard, which sat on his chest like a mat, and wore a stupid cap on his head. He wielded a svardstav in one hand, which was essentially an ordinary but elongated staff with a sword blade tanged on the top.

The wizard stepped forth, his friend consisting of a bulging shadowy mass over his body making strange noises, the mass significantly larger than its host. The shadowy thing's serpentine head was as big as its host's body! The looming mass of darkness arched over the devil; the skinless winged demonic creature suddenly jumped out the ashes he was hammered into, wings flapping powerfully and so quickly they made him look like a giant red hummingbird whose wings flicked blood everywhere, spattering upon the wizard and his strange friend.

The snake head of the mass of darkness looked up, for the devil hovered above the wizard, ashes falling form the sky, and then the mass of darkness flailed its head sideways, hitting the devil midair and sending him off to the side somewhere. The devil landed against the corner of a nearby sarcophagus, his back cracking against it, which dazed him, and he fell to a sitting position. He looked up, seeing, and hearing, the dark shadowy mass turn its head and look back at him. The devil cocked his head.

Then in his left hand, the wizard conjured a flame, revealing he was also a pyromancer. His body cracked and popped from within, his body made a stretching sound as if his muscles were going to rip apart, and then the strange mass of darkness screeched loudly, exhaling breath causing falling ashes in front of him to swirl away. The thing extended itself upwards so that it could tower high above the devil, and its host waddled forth, staff and pyromancy-hand raised by being bent at the elbows, and the wizard's feet plowing the ashes as he moved through them.

The strange beast reared and hissed, the wizard jogging as if ready to fall down, so the devil stood up rather slowly, wings spread, tail swaying, and his body, and the wizard's body, bleeding constantly as usual. Looking up, the devil heard the monster screech, its mouth open, and it lunged itself at him to bite a chunk of his body off.

The devil bent both his knees, and just as the monster was about to bite him, the devil dove forth, tackling into the wizard's legs, wrapping his arms around the wizard's legs and squeezing them together, and picked him up; naturally, the wizard lost balance and fell backwards, his giant friend falling with him and crashing against a sarcophagus, breaking through it and causing pieces of it and the blood inside to fly everywhere. A retarded skinny little Hollow jumped out the destroyed coffin, hopped around for a second, and then ran away like a snivelling little fag.

The strange beast writhed and hissed angrily, bending itself inwards and biting the devil's tail, and pulling on it, dragging the devil back, but he held onto the wizard's legs. The wizard, too Hollow to know what was going on, still had high intelligence, and could cast magic, because intelligence decrees magical prowess for some reason. The wizard stuck his pyromancy hand downwards along his body and summoned a torrent of flame from it, which charred the devil's head and horns.

"Don't insult me!" The devil laughed, breathing fire shortly a bit which caused the blood leaking out his mouth to sizzle a bit, and in that instance, the dark creature, jaws clenched on the devil's tail, reared its head, pulling the devil as well, and then began flailing the devil about in all directions, slamming him into the various nearby stone coffins with such force his body splat against them and broke them open, sending bits of rubble and the blood inside flying everywhere, the devil's trying to balance himself by straightening his wings, doing anything to at least slow down the velocity of the flailing.

Meanwhile, the wizard picked himself up (how the shadowy monster's size and weight did not crumble the undead is anybody's guess), and looked around, trying to figure out what happened to his opponent, sometimes seeing the devil's blood streaking through the air here and there while the serpentine monster flailed him about like a rag doll.

Several coffins were broken asunder, and those inside, mostly robed Hollows, hopped out, bodies drooling blood, and then they charged the sorcerer and his big friend. The wizard stuck his svardstav forwards with a huff, ramming its blade into one of the Hollows, and while the blade was still inside the Hollow, he summoned a blast of soul arrows, magic surging through the staff and shooting from within the Hollow's body, causing its midsection to break apart, shoots of blue, ribs, blood, and bits of skin and clothing flying out his front and back. Spinal cord shattered, the Hollow fell apart. The several other Hollows were struck down by the giant serpentine darkness, using the devil as a living flail, smashing the Hollows broken with him and that was the end of them.

The sorcerer spun around, feeling his big shadowy friend writhe and then smash the devil against some broken coffins, to damage his body against the broken poky masonry. The devil managed to grab a chunk of broken sarcophagus and threw it at the serpentine thing, but that did nothing. The sorcerer walked slowly forwards, clueless, mindlessly, while the strange creature kept its jaws locked on the devil's tail and continued thrashing him wildly through the air and into coffins.

The commotion attracted the attention of ten tall blue-robed Hollows, all of them wielding crossbows. They noticed the big weird thing and decided to shoot bolts at it, why not? The bolts whizzed through the air and thudded against the big black snaky thing, grabbing its attention. It hissed powerfully, and then threw spun the devil around above itself, his blood spattering everywhere, and then the snaky monster literally flicked the devil at the Hollow crossbowmen, knocking down four of them. The serpentine monster writhed forwards aggressively, signalling the wizard to walk forth, but he walked the other direction instead. Irritated, shaking its head, the shadowy monster bent over, biting onto the corner of a broken coffin and pulling itself closer to it, forcing his host to walk that way.

Meanwhile, the devil, wings and tail flopping around, picked himself up, several Hollow crossbowmen, having reloaded their crossbows, shooting them at point-blank range into the devil, bolts wetly thudding into his body.

"Fucking idiots! Shoot that big thing, not me!" The devil growled, blood leaking out his mouth, the Hollows staring at him blankly as their own skulls leaked blood, but they did not seem to understand, the big thing approaching them, wriggling through the air.

The devil just punched the nearest crossbowman across the jawbone, knocking it clean off the skull; he spun around and hit the ground. Spirry then sent a flurry of rapid hook punches and uppercuts, targeting the jaws and chests, breaking ribs and dislocating jaws with every punch, and within a few seconds most of the crossbowmen were on the ground with shattered ribs, but two remained standing. Those who had been knocked down when the devil was thrown into them, received heel-stomped by the devil into the neck, head and elbows as they tried to pick themselves, the devil seemingly dancing upon them, breaking necks and elbows, rendering them immobile.

The sorcerer and his friend neared the crossbowmen, the sorcerer casting a mix of pyromancy projectiles and soul arrows at the same time, the skinless demon spinning around to dodge them, and then the snaky thing slammed his head down against the ground where the devil stood, but the devil skipped to the side and dodged the attack. Furious, the serpentine shadowy monster repeatedly slammed its head into the ground, hammering the crossbowmen down even further into the ashy ground, impact causing ashes to poof up everywhere.

The two crossbowmen who remained standing, by this time, had reloaded their crossbows, and shot at the weird monster, bolts going into it. The monster retaliated with a howl, and swung itself horizontally like a giant flail, knocking the two crossbowmen off their feet, and then it reared and began thrashing itself down upon them, breaking their bodies. The sorcerer thrust his svardstav lowly to finish-off one crossbowman trying to pick himself up, blade going through his head and ending him.

The devil, who kept his distance, bent over and picked up a fallen crossbow from one of the wounded crossbowmen, also plucking his quiver out, and then quickly reloaded the crossbow. The devil aimed and shot the crossbow, bolt audibly cracking into the sorcerer's knee, the sorcerer grunted and falling on one knee. The snaky monster hissed and faced the devil, reared, and then whipped itself forth with such force, that the whiplash caused the sorcerer to fly off his feet.

The devil threw the crossbow at the incoming mass of dark weirdness, and then leaned forwards, regurgitating flaming bile and exhaling a torrent of flames. Just like dragons and gargoyles, this devil could blast fire out his mouth, the spurt of flames burning the monster's face but not doing much. The serpentine monster jolted forth, and then the devil drop-kicked the monster's face midair, knocking it back and stopping its lunging attack, twirling through the air and landing in a kneeling position facing away from the monster. The beast hissed, and so did the devil in reply as he got up and spun around viciously, blood spattering out his mouth. The shadowy snaky thing slithered forth, now not caring about its host, who gripped his sword-tipped staff firmly but just was dragged along behind his hissing friend.

Lunging itself forwards again, jerking its host violently by doing so, the big snaky thing attempted to bite over the winged skinless being's head, but the devil managed to roll his shoulders, twisting out of the way, and then in return, snapped his jaws onto the side of the serpentine monster's neck, and then dug the claws at his hands and feet into the beast as well, latching onto the big thing. The serpentine monster hissed angrily, flailing itself in the air as to throw its attacker off, the devil spreading his wings to stabilize himself midair, and remained affixed to the monster much to its displeasure.

Ripping and chewing away, the devil tasted the beast's flesh, whatever it was made of, but however it tasted like, would never be known; perhaps it tasted like raw flesh. Nevertheless, the devil, while his jaws ripped away at the serpentine creature's neck, at the same time, began exhaling flames, cauterizing the monster's wound but also giving it pain. The devil's exhaled fire and flaming bile went into the monster's throat and burned its esophagus. Screeching, the snaky monster smashed its side down, slamming the devil against the edge of a sarcophagus, but he remained latched on, clawing and chewing the flesh, while exhaling fire into the hole he made with his teeth.

The monster's wildly powerful hissing, screeching and wailing echoed throughout the graveyard and mountainside, clearly showing that it was seriously pissed-off, but not matter how hard it smacked its side into the coffins, crags, or boulders, the devil, seemingly uninjured, refused to let go. Meanwhile, every time the wizard tried to picked himself up, he'd just get thrashed or dragged around by the snaky monster warped around his body, but at least he still gripped his svardstav.

Turning its head acutely, the snaky monster tried to bite the devil, but the skinless creature crawled onto the back of the monster's head, gnawing and clawing away as he went. Furious, the dark monster arched backwards, slamming itself backwards over itself into yet another blood-filled coffin, breaking its lid and causing the blood inside to dash out, some shards of of the lid stuck in the devil's back and wings. The snaky monster then aggressively slammed itself backwards, repeatedly slamming the devil backwards into the coffin and breaking it further, blood inside splashing, and whoever was inside the coffin was probably mashed.

Resorting to twirling its head around and around at great speed, the snaky monster soon managed to hurl the devil off itself, the skinless winged creature's clawed toes and fingers, and his fangs and teeth, ripping out the dark mass and hurled into a crag. The devil struck the crag, his own blood spattering over it in a large area, and he fell down, landing on his knees, wings lifted above himself and dropping blood upon him, and his entire frame leaking blood as always. A chunk of blackened flesh was visible hanging over his mouth, a piece of the snaky monster, which wriggled its way towards the devil. He lapped up the flesh, chewing on it, and swallowed it, along with a mouthful of blood.

Cornering the devil, the monster eagerly reared with a mighty screech, and then jolted forth, jaws ready to rip off a chunk of the devil. The devil, with supreme precision and reflexes, dove forth while spinning around, so that just as the monster lunged at him, he was underneath its mouth facing upwards, dodging the bite and snapping his mouth over the serpentine monster's lower jaw. Upon that, he balanced himself, legs bent and feet planted, back bending backwards, and tail and wings serving as a counterbalance. Devil's jaws firmly clenched over the underside of the snaky monster's jawbone, he also quickly clawed into the back of the jawbone, curling his fingers around the back of both sides of the jawbone, so that he could wrench it side to side while trying to dislocate it with his mouth.

Teeth and hands busy, the monster's jawbone loosened, cracking and popping, so the monster swung itself up in the air, and since the devil refused to let go, he was also thrown up, and at that, a loud crack sounded. Thrown off the monster, the movement also dislocated the shadowy serpent's jaw, and it hung loosely, while the devil spread his wings and glided down upon a large coffin. The snaky monster suddenly could not hiss very loudly, mostly only able to exhale fiercely, its jawbone dangling by skin and tendons, incisor teeth and fangs visible.

"Keep that smile on your face while it's still attached to your fucking head!" The devil gargled angrily, perhaps, being a reptilian being, recognizing the serpent as smiling or making some other facial expression no human could ever notice.

Breathing heavily, the dark serpentine mass writhed after the devil, plowing through the ashes covering the ground, and the devil hopped off the coffin, leaning forwards as he walked, spreading his arms and wings apart, sticking his tongue out and curling it upwards. Once the two reptilian beings were within ten feet of one another, the devil suddenly bent his knees acutely, lowering himself dramatically, and at the same time he whipped his arms and wings apart, flicking blood off to his sides, fingers curled and claws flashing, and he hissed loudly and deeply like a crocodile, blood gushing out his mouth, eye sockets and nostrils.

The serpentine monster exhaled angrily, and reared a bit, ready to use its head as a club, and just as it did so, the devil extended his legs instantly, thrusting himself forwards and tackling into the monster with such force he knocked it over. Mounting the monster's throat, the devil began biting and clawing the neck open, opening it, the serpentine monster thrashing itself violently as it often did, though the devil was firmly planted on the monster's neck.

Spreading open the monster's throat, the devil plunged his arms into the neck, grabbing the spinal cord with both hands, and then began moving his hands in opposite directions until the spinal cord shattered, breaking apart, the devil's right hand jerking forwards and his left hand pulling outwards. Spinal cord severed, the monster twitched and then seemingly melted, smoking away into nothingness, much to the devil's surprise.

The devil ended up kneeling upon the ashy ground holding nothing, only hearing his own blood dripping upon the ashes below him, and then he turned his head, lifting one wing out of his sight, and noticed the wizard. The old magician, a little dizzy, picked himself up, robes soaked in blood, but in his pyromancy hand, he held a chunk of ember, which he crushed in his hand. This caused his body to be flaked with flames, as if the light cast of fire emanated over his body and clothes here and there, forming an aura.

The devil sniffled, feeling blood rinse his nasal cavity, and then picked himself up as well. His blood thickened, and flesh, veins, muscles, and tendons began to form visible. He started breathing, each and every breath causing red fluid to leak out his mouth, nasal cavity, eye sockets and ears. He twitched a little, and looked at the devil, both pairs of empty eye sockets staring at one another. The devil cocked his head, then clasped his hands behind his back.

"I take it you know this place better than me?" The devil asked with his deep, gurgling voice, and after a few seconds, the wizard nodded, and opened his mouth as if to speak, but he could not, tongue and lungs not yet forming.

The sorcerer slowly turned around, and then looked up at the giant tree at the mountaintop, hearing the echoes of bubbling lava from within the volcano, his bent back cracking aloud. Then, the two overheard footfall, the devil turning to the side to look back.


	9. Exegesis - Heavy Metal

**Exegesis, part 3**

 **Heavy Metal**

Twitching to the scene was the Hollow lass, little more than a bleeding shrivelled-up hunk of skin and bone, shaking like a dead leaf, but this time, she held a great sword in one hand, blade over her left shoulder, as she was left-handed. She seemed to have gotten used to the pain, the ashes reaching up to her shins and already charring. As always, the devil's and the two Hollows' bodies bled continuously, the ashes falling from the sky dotting them, but chances are you are still imagining that, right?

The Hollow lass looked at the devil with her empty eye sockets, jaw cracking and moving, but no words came out. She seemed to notice just that, her free hand rising to her mouth for a moment, and stopped trying to talk, overhearing the noises coming from the nearby coffins, looking at a few broken ones, seeing skinless bloody arms rising from them, but the occupants were still trapped beneath the shattered the lids. She looked back at the skinless winged creature, hearing his heart beating.

"I take it you can't talk yet? Don't worry, my disease will force your body to regrow, your blood will be like mine, your flesh like my own, you mind as my mind, and force you to feel pain again, but you will get used to suffering. If you were uncomfortable a while ago, you will soon end up like me! Skinless, fleshy, wet, and energetic! Just imagine how much good suffering you will feel very soon!" The devil haughtily exclaimed; the Hollow lass snorted, and the devil noticed her left hand was tightly clenched.

"Anyways, if you're wondering why you're alive again instead of enjoying death, I think I have an answer. The curse of this realm seems to be affected by the natural elements, in this case, fire, darkness, and souls, just a few very useless things. But I am not alike these things, but I am of a more... otherworldly substance. I don't know if you even have a soul now, but my infection forces the dead to come back to life, like necromancy you may say, but a kind of it that forces flesh and blood to come again. Obviously, that is why the many, many coffins here are gushing with blood, those inside are regrowing, but I don't care about them. Unsurprisingly, I do not know what the soul means in this realm, as I come from elsewhere, but if you are soulless, well, be alive without a soul! Now you can be independent from the curse of your world!" The devil explained, though whether he was right or wrong, was anybody's guess, but whatever diseases he was spreading certainly could go beyond the Curse.

Neither Hollow seemed to understand much, if anything at all, but if what the devil said was true, their bodies indeed would regrow and be alive again, independently from the Curse. The wizard and the swordswoman looked at each other, then noticed the devil look up at the big tree atop the volcano.

"Hm, but my infection was already working even before I came. If I still have bilocation in this world, my bilcoated self must be somewhere around here. Ah! You two, you're both less zombie than those blue-robed idiots, how about you both make yourselves useful and follow me for a while, give me a better chance at finding my bilcoated self, and then I will leave you in peace, if you prefer to be dead. Although you may not understand me, whether you suffer or not is up to me, so let pain be your instructor." The devil said, and then he bent over slightly, jaws opening, he twitching, and for a few seconds, he stopped bleeding.

Exhaling fire out his mouth and nostrils, body becoming pink, veins and arteries visibly empty, and then the blood that had been leaking out of him suddenly drizzled, moving on their own, and slithering across the ashes and going into the feet of the two Hollows. Once the devil's blood entered the two Hollows, they quickly began leaking blood like fountains starting at the feet, and the blood was thick, so thick, that it resembled pudding.

The Hollow girl gasped, and her insides began working audibly, lungs beating, heart pumping, veins sucking, and her breath causing the red fluid to gush out. She dropped her great sword, put her hands to her throat, and then for a second waved her arms as if to swim; she felt as though she was drowning, but could not die. Her veins began bulging, so much that they nearly looked like they would burst from overflowing!

Likewise, the wizard, robes filled with thick blood, somewhat panicked, his internal organs audible working away, veins bulging, and his skinless frame bleeding like crazy, thick masses of flesh forming like soft pulp on his body. Body shaking, the wizard's left hand formed a substance of pyromancy, and he looked around frantically, wondering what was going on.

"Yes! Rise from the dead, my stupids! Wait on a moment, I could form an army like this..." The devil remarked, his own body recreating blood via cellular division that worked at a rate so astoundingly inconceivable that it appeared that it came out of nowhere, and upon saying that, he thought of something.

"Hm, if my bilocation is uncontrollable, my other bilocated self must be trying to assemble an army starting here, so that must be why I flew here, I think." The devil said, and he walked onwards, forgetting about the two Hollows he had resurrected.

The Hollow lass tried to breathe, but only swallowed blood. Although uncomfortable, she realized she could not die, and at that, picked up her great sword, and having nothing to do, no quest, no life, no purpose, she followed the devil, looking at the wizard as she went and giving him a shrug. The wizard turned around and walked with the lass, his beard now soaked in as much blood as his attired, the blood trickling down his left arm sizzling by his pyromancy medium burning at his left hand.

Sometime later, the red-winged tormentor and his two Hollowed companions had up the path (there's always a path in Dark Souls in some form) and a small group of knights were waiting for them. Up ahead, five knights bedecked in rusty plate armour stood amidst a path along the crags. Sticking out of the cliff side and drop-off were immense sarcophagi, so big, that the ones sticking out the drop-off below protruded a dozen or so feet. The stone coffins arching out the crags provided much shade and cover from the falling ashes, so this area had less ashfall.

The five rusty buckets did not look too impressive in their common "knight armour", but their full plate armour, appearing to be of composite assembly, was nonetheless superior in terms of protection. Two knights wielded round metal shields and greatmaces, two others armed with large kite shields and halberds (they held their halberds in one hand as if holding a spear), and the fifth knight, was sitting down lazily, having a two-handed flail but was without a shield.

Like all the other undead in this area, the knights were bleeding profusely through their skinless bodies, red fluid leaking out the gaps and joints of their armour, and, peculiarly, their eyes glowed red, reddish lights beaming out the eye slits of their visors. The knights stood idly, facing the approaching devil but making no reaction, helmets pointed forwards and the men-at-arms visibly slowly shuffling their shoulders for some reason, as characters are wont to do in East Asian games, for whatever reason.

The devil stopped, and then waved at the knights, shouting thus, "What are you morons doing? Standing around doing nothing?" The knights made no reaction; the Hollowed lass and wizard reached the sides of their devilish saviour and stood at his flanks, somewhat worried about getting too close to the five knights.

The winged creature was somewhat confused, so he turned his head so that he could see the sorcerer, and said to him, "You wizards are smart, right? What the hell are they doing?" The wizard looked back at the bloody demon and just shrugged.

Lifting his svardstav a bit, the sorcerer readied his catalyst to cast a spell, and still, the knights did not react. Shaking his head, the devil wondered why the undead in this realm were so stupid. Nevertheless, he took a step forwards, and instantly, the five knights looked at him, shuffled in their armour, and those with shields raised them and approached him, and the knight sitting down got up and began swinging his flail overhead.

The sorcerer and swordswoman looked at the devil, nervous that he had caught the attention of multiple opponents, but he just went into a sprint and charged, without weapons, without armour, not giving a shit. The two knights with round shields and greatmaces summoned their internal strength, bodies glowing red from within, and they raised their shields and jogged towards the devil, whilst the two halberdiers were somewhat defensive.

Both macemen charged, side-by-side, and swung their maces powerfully, flailing them like their lives depended on it. Seeing both weapons incoming, the devil skipped to the side, evading the swung weapons, the sorcerer having cast a great and heavy soul arrow and nailed the knight to his left in the head, magic forcing open his visor and staggering him; the devil pushed the knight hit by magic over and then spun around, one of the halberdiers ramming the top-spike into the devil's sternum, so he grabbed the shaft and pulled it out, but kept gripping it firmly, then the second halberdier swung his polearm in an overhand manner, blade incoming and ready to split the devil's skull apart, but he parried the weapon with his horns.

Immediately, the swordswomen rushed forth and confronted the knight to her right, who had just lifted his greatmace from the ground, she not at all worried about picking a fight as a naked zombie. She swung her sword across the knight's helmet and stunned him, so he swung his greatmace sideways, the lass, with reflexes like a cat, diving away from it, rolling over her shoulders and getting up instantly, body covered with ashes. She then gripped one hand onto the blade and rammed it like a spear into the knight's armpit of the left arm, hurting him, so he backhanded his shield into the lass, metal face smacking into her face and dashing out blood, and staggered her. He then raised his greatmace, so the lass swung her great sword upwards and clipped him in the fingers of his gauntlet, hurting them enough to dissipate his swung mace, which hit the ground. The lass instantly side-stepped and then quickly push-kicked the knight in the side, and at the same time, swung her great sword upwards and hit the knight in the visor.

The devil noticed the lass's prowess, but there was no time to admire her; she fought her foe, using agility and quickness to dodge his attacks for now and attacking when able, but the knight was good with his shield and blocked most of her attacks.

The second halberdier, who was surprised to have his halberd parried by a pair horns, lifted his halberd as to swing it downwards again, the devil feeling the first halberdier struggling for the devil was much stronger than humans. The devil threw the shaft he held upwards, so that it flung up and hit the underside of the other knight's halberd and slightly interfered with the swung, just enough, to allow the devil to flick his left wing sideways, throwing aside the swung halberd. At that, the knight with the flail swung it downwards, chain flicking over the shoulder of the first halberdier, and the spiky ball would have crushed the demon's skull had he not leaned backwards, feeling the ball-and-chain cause air to swoosh down his face and hit the ground, for the chain was quite immense. The first halberdier retrieved his halberd, chain of the flail jingling along his pauldron as he moved, and he charged the devil, tucking the shaft under the arm while running towards the devil.

The sorcerer cast another spell, arching over the devil's shoulder and smoking the charging halberdier in the helmet, staggering him. Immediately, the devil drop-kicked the knight and took him down, and with a flap of his wings, landed on his feet. The second halberdier, and maceman the devil had pushed over, reached the devil at the same time and swung their weapons at him. Not seeing the greatmace, the devil grabbed the shaft of the incoming halberd and stopped it midair, but the maceman struck the devil in the back and staggered him. Immediately afterwards, the knight with the flail pulled it back and swung it downwards again, clubbing the devil in the head and knocked him down with a splat.

Dazed, skull broken open and gushing blood, the devil quickly rolled backwards over the shoulders, dodging a halberd, greatmace, and flail all swung at him, and then he spun around, whipping his tail into the maceman's legs hard enough to trip him. The halberdier, shield high, thrust his halberd at the devil, who, surprisingly, snapped his jaws over the metal head and held it in place with his teeth. The halberdier pulled his weapon back but it was locked in the devil's mouth. Walking forth and letting his hand slide up the shaft, the halberdier bashed his kite shield into the devil, metal frame splatting against the devil and causing blood to spurt forth.

The knight with the big flail got it spinning around, and the devil, keeping his teeth clenched over the halberd head, and feeling the halberdier bashing his shield repeatedly into him, grabbed the knight by the neck with both hands, grasping around the gorget, and then literally picked him up a few inches and then tossed him aside while kicking him across the legs, effectively tripping him, losing grip of his halberd.

The devil spat the halberd out and held it in both hands, seeing the flail incoming, and so swung the halberd into its trajectory, so that the side of his halberd struck the chained ball and redirected the incoming weapon away from himself. The devil then flipped the halberd around and swung the hooked side into the flailman, who raised his arms and used the handle of his flail to block the halberd.

By this time, the halberdier who the devil drop-kicked down got up, the sorcerer casting a soul arrow at him, the halberdier spinning around to face the wizard after feeling the projectile hit hi in the backplate. Overhearing the devil and swordswoman fighting the other knights, the halberdier thrust his halberd at the wizard around his raised shield, who spun to the side while running and so dodged the thrust, and then cast a spell consisting of a rapid burst of little projectiles, perhaps ten or more blasting forth, knocking aside his shield for a moment, allowing the wizard to thrust his svardstav into the knight's groin and stabbing into flesh. The knight huffed, and flung his halberd sideways and then swung it in an overhand chop in one hand in a single motion, the sorcerer knocking aside the halberd with his svardstav, and then got bashed in the front by the knight's shield.

The knight, taking the advantage of staggering his foe, went in for the kill, but the sorcerer suddenly rammed the blade of his svardstav into the knight's opened visor, hearing the blade puncture the knight's face and click against the inside of the back of his helm. The bearded wizard grasped his polearm with both hands and pushed on it, pushing the knight over and pinning him against the ground. At that, the wizard summoned a great and heavy soul arrow, magic surging up his catalyst and then through the inside of the knight's skull, literally bursting his head open, dashing out blood, brains, bits of skull, and the red glow in the knight's eyes quickly vanished with a hiss.

The sorcerer ripped his svardstav out and looked around. The devil, having disarmed the halberdier, used it wildly, swinging it around himself as if it were a big club, the disarmed halberdier having no way to get passed the reach. The maceman facing the devil charged, blocking the halberd with his shield, and swung lowly, intending to swing his greatmace across the devil's legs, but he jumped over it with a flap of his wings, and then landed on the maceman, sitting upon his shoulders, the demon's thighs wrapped around the maceman's helmet. The flailman noticed and swung horizontally highly, to knock the devil off his friend, but the devil leaned backwards and let himself flail backwards, keeping his legs wrapped around the maceman's helmet, dodging the swung flail, but also used mass and momentum to drag the maceman forwards and caused him to roll over his shoulders, and so the devil ended up mounted atop the knight. The flailman, whose flail missed the devil, simply let it swing around again for a second revolution, and so struck the devil across the shoulder, smashing him off the maceman.

Meanwhile, the swordswoman and the maceman she fought continued their duel. The maceman swung here and there, but the lass always skipped around to evade his attacks, often going to his sides and then stabbing her great sword into the openings at his armpits and behind the knee, injuring him bit by bit. Since she was little more than a bloody skeleton, she could not physically overcome the armoured knight quickly, but she could wear him down. She noticed the devil in some trouble, but was not sure if she should intervene or not. She saw him and the maceman near him get up, but the devil resorted to skipping around and dodging the heavy attacks while using the length of his halberd to repeatedly thrust and swing. She, without having to look, heard the clicking armour of the maceman fighting her and she skipped backwards to avoid an upward diagonal swing, and then the maceman sent a flurry of diagonal upwards swings.

The sorcerer noticed and summoned a projectile of magic to lance into the back of the maceman's knee, causing him to lean back from pain. At that, the swordswoman, gripping her great sword with one hand on the handle and the other on the blade, bashed the middle of the blade into the knight's helm, and at that, he lost balance and fell over. The lass kicked his visor open, knelt over him, and, still gripping her great sword by the blade and handle, rammed the point into the maceman's mouth, blade splitting apart a few teeth and then stabbing the back of the mouth and so severing the spinal cord and killed him. The lass then dropped her great sword, grasping the maceman's greatmace and, with some difficulty, threw it sideways at the three knights fighting the devil all at once, the disarmed halberdier receiving the thrown mace in the back of the helm and staggered from impact.

The disarmed halberdier spun around and rushed to the lass, raising his shield to block a projectile from the wizard's catalyst, the lass quickly reequipping her great sword and getting ready, the sorcerer then summoning his pyromancy source and casting a torrent of flames through his left hand. The flames burned the knight's shield but did little to stop his sprint, the lass rolling off to the side, but the knight expected her to do that, and simply jumped upon on, heavy metal boots pinning her against the ground, and then he rammed the pointy end of his kite shield into the lass's head and eye sockets repeatedly. She rolled her shoulders to dodged the pointed bottom of the kite shield a few times, but was at the knight's mercy, the weight of the zombie-knight and his armour too much for the Hollow. Unable to use her great sword, she let go of it, and then she managed to grab the kite shield and held it in place, preventing it from smashing her face apart, so the knight dropped one knee into her groin heavily and then began punching her in the ribs with his free right hand, gauntlets audibly splatting against her bloodied body, the knight's own blood leaking upon her, the beaming red lights shining through his visor forming little spotlights upon the Hollow girl's face.

The sorcerer, who although undead was still under the affects of age, noticed the lass's struggle, but the devil was also in trouble, having been knocked down by the flailman and then the other maceman began hammering his greatmace into the devil's legs to break them. To compensate, the sorcerer summoned a fire orb with one hand, and a mighty soul arrow out his staff, the explosive fire ball hitting the flailman whilst the soul arrow struck the unarmed halberdier, stunned the two knights.

The maceman noticed the pyromancy and spun around, charging the sorcerer; the devil rolled sideways to dodge the flailman's weapon which thudded into the ground and caused ashes to flutter around. The devil got up and then grasped the chain of the flail, and swung the ball right back at the flailman! Not expecting that to happen, the flailman's own ball-and-chain hit him in the helmet, he leaning to the side out of reflex but was still hit. Irritated, the devil dove into the knight's midsection and tackled him down.

Meanwhile, the sorcerer, who was faced with the charging maceman who had spun around upon noticing the fire ball he had cast, summoned another lance of soul magic, the charging maceman blocking it with his shield and then swung his greatmace sideways just as the wizard summoned a torrent of flames. The greatmace hit the wizard's left shoulder and knocked him over, pyromancy-hand blasting flames as he fell. Immediately, while on his back, the sorcerer thrust his svardstav into the knight's crotch, and summoned magic into that area, the resulting ejaculation of soul magic knocking the knight over entirely from pain.

The lass, who was still on her back, struggled to free herself, feeling the repeat blows of the gauntlet thudding against her ribs. Having to think fast, she quickly unsheathed the knight's dagger from his belt, and then thrust it into the eye slit of his visor, stabbing into his eyeball. The knight groaned, sounding more like an animal than a human, glowing red eye now drizzling blood. The lass pushed the dagger until the hilt hit the visor, the knight's shoulder swaying a bit and he stepped off of her, she losing grip of the dagger and leaving the blade stuck in his visor and eye socket.

The knight grabbed the dagger and ripped it out his visor and eye socket, the lass by this time having picked herself up and wielded her great sword with both hands at the handle. She could see the devil and flailman wrestling with each other wildly upon the series of coffins sticking out the side of the cliff. The wizard was summoning a spell, the maceman who received a soul arrow into the testicles having picked himself up but was in great pain, so he swung his shield in an overhand manner, and let go, throwing it at the sorcerer, who felt the shield rim smack him in the face and he reared from that.

The maceman got up, legs shaking, and lifted his greatmace, ready to smash the sorcerer to oblivion, but then the lass scurried to him like a twitchy ferret, and gripping her great sword so that both hands were at the blade, she swung her weapon so that the pommel, like a mace,s truck the knight in the helmet from the side; he never saw it coming and was stunned. The lass then gripped her great sword by the blade so that one hand was at the ricasso and other near the forte, hooking one side of the cross-guard around the knight's neck, and pulling him down while bending both knees to utilize what mass she could.

Falling over onto his hands and knees, pain in his groin too much to bear, the swordswoman knelt before him and rammed the tip of her sword at his armpit, sword tip stabbing through the mail and gambeson. The Hollowed girl rearranged her grip so that she could push it farther into the knight's body, twenty inches of blade going into him and skewering his heart and lungs. At that, the swordswoman let out a sigh of relief, and sat down clumsily to catch her breath. She looked at the wizard, who was rather clueless, hardly a surprise due to being a Hollow.

Up ahead, the devil and flailman continued wrestling, the devil having dropped his halberd to wrestle better, the knight having also let go of his flail, unsheathed his dagger, and stabbing it repeatedly while wrestling with his winged foe. The devil's and knight's bodies leaking blood everywhere profusely, the knight's armour clicking with every movement and his own blood pouring out the gaps of his armour and visor, beaming red eyes shining angrily, and then, in a mere twinkling, they both rolled off the protruding sarcophagus and plummeted down. The wizard and lass stared blankly with their bleeding but empty eye sockets, and after several seconds, the devil reappeared, flying back up, and landing on the coffin sticking out the cliff there. He looked back at them, folding his wings behind himself.

"Shall we?" He asked the two, continuing the walk up the path while gesturing with his head to follow him.


	10. Exegesis - Mountainside Graveyard

**Exegesis, part 4**

 **Through the Mountainside Graveyard**

The wizard and lass looked at each other for a second, then he walked forth to follow the devil. The lass was about to go herself, but then felt a breeze flow through her, ashes flurrying into her nostrils and wrinkly bleeding body, and at that, she realized she was naked. She was rather uncomfortable, to have ashes down her bust and slit between her legs, so she bent her knees inwards, lifted her shoulders, and put her great sword down her front, as if trying to hide behind it.

The Hollow girl looked around, seeing the knight she had killed, the maceman she wrestled with, the one who busted her face with his shield. Eager for some revenge, she scurried to him, poking her blade through his opened visor, to stab into the face, but he remained motionlessly, so was surely dead. She then spent the next few minutes taking off the dead knight's armour, her sword aside, and undoing the straps vigorously, her body leaking blood upon the armour and tapping against it. Having some difficulty due to her fingers being bloody and so slippery, she clenched her teeth and wrested the parts of the armour open angrily, moving in sudden spasms of irritation, opening the knights armour as if she wanted to rape his corpse.

Armet, breastplate, pauldrons, backplate, vambraces, rerebraces, cuisses, greaves, couters, gauntlets, sabatons, and all other parts, taken off, she then pulled the gambeson and padded leggings off, then unbuttoned the doublet, undid the belt, and pulled the garments off. She then nearly ripped off the corpse's undergarments, having to lift the muscular but skinless and shrivelled fleshy legs up and push the body a bit once in a while, all cloth drenched in blood.

Taking a look between the knight's legs, the zombie grinned and made a raspy giggle, clutching the undergarments close to herself, feeling the blood from the clothes and her body dripping steadily. Flicking the undergarments along, spattering blood from it, she then dressed herself in the blood-soaked undergarments, the wet cloth sticking to her body, but it was better than nothing. She then put on the doublet, stockings, trousers, and closed the belt. She put the boots and greaves on, then attached the sabatons and cuisses, strapping the armour behind the leg, but they also had sliding rivets for additional flexibility. She laced the arm harness onto the gambeson, which had laces on the sleeves to attach the vambraces, rerebraces, poleyns, and pauldrons along with the breastplate, backplate, and gorget. Looking around briefly, the lass then put on the armet, closing the visors and bowl together, and then, finally, pulled the gauntlets into her hands. For some reason, everything fits everyone in Dark Souls, and so there was no need to tailor armour per wearer. Sizes do seem to change drastically depending on whoever is with the armour, weapon, or equipment, but if if the articles were made out of the earth, and the earth itself was cursed, perhaps they adjusted with whatever soul they were involved with.

Regardless, the lass was cap-a-pied in plate armour. She also took the liberty to take the corpse's sword-belt, picking up his dagger and sheathing it, and then grasping her great sword, dragged it off the ground, put it over her pauldron, and just like that, another knight was ready for a random adventure. She jogged after the wizard and devil, armour clicking as she moved. Despite being a frail skinny thing, she had quite the impressive vitality, and was surely a knight in life. Once she caught up with the wizard, he turned to the side while walking, watching the knightly lass running along, and at that, the adventure commenced.

Sometime later, the path along the craggy graveyard led to a rather randomly-placed stone bridge perhaps fifty feet long, going over a drop-off, and at the other side was a set of ruins, resembling a stone church built within the crags, its double-doors closed, of which the bridge led too. To the left, was the ocean, waves splashing about down below, and to the right, the craggy environment. And, up ahead over the bridge, the ruined stone church.

Without thinking, the devil walked on the bridge, the wizard following along and the lass behind him, looking around, the wizard looking up and seeing that giant tree at the mountain top, the volcano fuming smoke and ashes as always. The sorcerer then tripped and fell face-first, but quickly sat up; someone had tripped him, some sort of short, pot-bellied faggot wearing a stupid full-faced blue hood. Like the other undead here, his entire body leaked blood constantly, twitching in pain.

The little bugger had been clinging on the side of the bridge on the right unnoticed, and after he had tripped the wizard by extending his arm through the railings and grabbing his ankle, the creature crawled over the ledge and started hacking the wizard with an axe. The sorcerer, while sitting up, put his svardstav in the way, slightly blocking the axe, and then thrust his pyromancy hand into the stocky thing's chest, at the same time casting an orb of explosive fire, which hurled the little faggot backwards and he fell over the railings of the bridge, sizzling and screeching. The lass looked to the side but did not see the creature fall over, and the devil continued walking as if nothing had happened.

Suddenly, perhaps a dozen of these strange, short, zombies emerged, crawling from the sides of the bridge, most armed with axes, but a few had great swords (how they managed to carry a two-handed weapons while climbing was anybody's guess), and these small zombies seemed to be known as Thralls, which meant "slave" or "servant" in the Viking era of Scandinavia. The Thralls drooled blood, the face-mask section of their hoods drooling blood, their veins rushing with fluid, and their skin pink and leaking blood; the ashes falling constantly often stuck onto their bodies, burning parts frying their fleshy bodies.

Immediately, the knight looked side to side, vision greatly limited and so she could only see what was directly in front of her, so she raised her great sword and got ready to fight; the wizard picked himself up, svardstav couched under his arm and pyromancy hand raised and ready, flames forming.

The lass faced her left, and the wizard turned to his right, both were confronted with two Thralls each, the four creatures all having axes, and just as they climbed atop the railings, jumped off and dove at the two Hollows. The wizard thrust his polearm as if a lance while taking a step forwards, skewering a Thrall midair through the sternum and then blasting magic out his staff, the barrage of soul spears knocking it off and its back struck the railings. The other Thrall, receiving a torrent of flames by the wizard's pyromancy hand, nevertheless landed atop the wizard, wrapping its legs around the old man's head and began hacking his skull open.

Meanwhile, the two Thralls who leapt off the railings to attack the lass, and at the same time, she swung her great sword sideways across the air, cutting both their heads off midair, the momentum of the great sword causing her to spin all around and cut through the neck of the Thrall sitting upon the sorcerer's shoulders, and at that, she had beheaded three Thralls in a single sweep. The wizard rolled his shoulders, feeling the headless Thrall drop off his body, then he spun around to face forwards.

The devil was jumped by ten eight Thralls, four having great swords, and four with axes. The Thrall axemen crawled on all fours, whilst the Thrall swordsmen swung their great swords overhead their crawling brethren, and at the same time, the axemen intending to chop the devil's legs open, the eight Thralls planning their attacks to be utilized at the same time.

The devil reared and suddenly regurgitated blood like a fountain, gushing out his glowing red blood forth, which flowed along the bridge. The blood, being slipped caused the Thrall swordsmen to slip, two fell, and the crawling axemen's limbs suddenly slid apart and they plopped onto their bellies like cats slipping falling ice. The devil then jumped, slamming his heels into two different Thrall axemen, so that his feet crushed the back of their necks and paralyzed them.

Mimicking their crawling, the devil went on all fours and began clawing, biting, and goring with his horns, attacking the Thrall axemen like a savage animal, brutish teeth piercing flesh and crushing bones with every bite, the devil literally taking chunks out of the Thralls with powerful and clean chomps. The two Thrall swordsmen who kept their footing swung their swords downwards, both striking the devil, one in his head, the other in his shoulder. At that, the devil leapt like a tiger upon the two swordsmen, his weight crashing upon them, his blood leaking over them, they squirming beneath his claws, and then the devil bit over one Thrall's head and clamped his jaws, squishing the Thrall's hood closed; his skull was an afterthought, but it basically imploded with a wet crunch inside the hood.

The two other Thrall swordsmen who fell picked themselves up and began attacking the devil; he ignored the second Thrall under him, kneeling up to claw at the two swordsmen, and would be busy for a while at least.

Meanwhile, the lass and wizard were confronted with the next wave of Thralls, six emerging from behind the railings, three from each side. The wizard immediately cast a great and heavy soul arrow forth from his catalyst, but the Thrall ducked behind the railings and the magic arched overheard; the two other Thralls leaned over the railings and threw knives at the sorcerer, blades stabbing into his robe but not inflicting any serious wounds, and then the three Thralls leapt off the railings, axes brandished. The wizard backhanded his pyromancy hand, casting a wave of fire to burns cross the thee Thralls setting, their hoods on fire, making them resemble candles, though being undead, they did not feel much suffering, or at least could handle the pain of burning. The wizard then thrust his svardstav like a spear, stabbing one Thrall through the eye socket with the blade sticking out the back of its head, but the other two dove upon him and swung their axes into him rapidly.

At the same time, at the other side of the bridge, the knightly Hollow girl approached the Thralls climbing over the railings, they armed with blowguns and spitting out darts in-between the railings, though they did little against the lass's armour. The Thralls, putting away their blowguns into pockets and then taking out their axes from their belts (the shafts of their battleaxes were placed through a loop of leather or ring at their belt, so that the axe hung by its head), climbed the railings to fight.

The knight ran forth, driving her leg over the railings and kicking the Thrall in the middle in the face and knocking him off the bridge, and at that, the two other Thralls stoop upon the railings and began hacking into the lass's helm, axes thudding strongly against her armet. Although short and thin-limbed, the Thralls were surprisingly strong!

Staggering back a bit, the lass swung her great sword, hearing it grind and spark atop the railings, but both Thralls jumped like cats and so the blade went under their legs. The weight of the great sword caused the lass to spin to the side, and then the Thralls stepped down from the railings and continued hacking at the girl, stepping around frantically to continue pummelling her while evading her attacks. They overheard the devil grunting and breathing heavily, receiving many attacks by his three opponents, keeping him busy, using the reach of their great swords while dancing around, being extra careful not to slip in the blood while the devil slowly crawled like a panther.

The wizard, who's head and body were busted open pretty badly by the three Thrall axemen, skipped back to get out of the flurry of axes, and gripping his svardstav with both hands, swung it sideways lowly, managing to cut one Thrall's leg off, who skipped back too soon, and fell over with one leg, but crawled with hands, leg, and what was left of his right leg, to continue the fight. The sorcerer summoned a blade of souls, swinging his svardstav which cast a curved blade of souls, cutting across the two Thralls, the magic damaging them and causing them to stagger. However, the crawling one writhed itself to him and started hacking him with its axe, making more rips in the wizard's robe.

The sorcerer kicked the dismembered Thrall in the head, and then arched his svardstav overhead downwards, the Thrall crawling sideways, but the wizard nevertheless stabbed his bladed staff into the back of the Thrall's neck, severing the spinal cord and killing it instantly. The wizard pulled the blade out and then whirled it around overhead rapidly, forcing the two other Thralls to keep their distance. For every rotation the wizard made with his staff, he summoned a soul blade to swing forth, the magical rising blue masses cutting into the two Thralls relentlessly.

Shoulders and collarbones split open, the Thralls were injured and staggered from the Soul Greatsword spells, and then the wizard stepped forth and swung his svardstav across the Thrall to his left in the head, blade flicking off the top half of the Thrall's head and hood, the top half of the head still inside the top half of the hood, brains visible but blood gushing out the severed head, and the jaw and teeth of both halves also visible. The third Thrall jumped forth to swing its axe, so the wizard pulled his polearm backwards and then thrust it like a spear with both hands, skewering the Thrall in the chest, the axe too short to reach the old man, and he drove his svardstav with such force he pushed the Thrall backwards, where it landed on its butt with its back against the railings, one hand grasping the shaft of the svardstav. Wriggling the polearm backwards, the sorcerer pulled the blade out, Thrall's hand losing grip on the shaft, and then the wizard lunged his weapon again, ramming the blade into the Thrall's forehead, piercing its skull. The wizard slid the blade out while cutting downward, blade going through the hood, face and mouth, splitting through a few teeth and the jawbone.

Back to the lass, she launched her great sword in wide swings, maximizing its length, but the Thralls saw the powerful hits coming and ducked or skipped away from the blade. One Thrall jumped to the side to avoid the girl's great sword, and upon landing, felt a soul arrow hit him in the back of the neck, causing him to drop his axe and fall forwards. Noticing him off his feet, the lass quickly and recklessly chopped her big blade downwards, edge hitting the back of the Thrall's head and splitting it skull open, dashing out brains.

The two other Thrall axemen leapt at the knight, driving their axes against her armour, so she got angry and swung her swords upwards from below, dragging it along the bridge, and the blade swung upwards diagonally, hitting a Thrall under his left arm and cutting halfway across his rib cage with an audible wet crack. The Thrall grabbed the blade in his body and at the same time fell over, spine severed and so paralyzed.

The third Thrall continued chopping its axe at the lass, so she pulled her sword out the Thrall she cut into and faced the last annoying faggot. She raised her great sword so that it was upright to her side, and she patiently waited, allowing the Thrall to pummel her armour with his axe like a complete fucktard, and then she swung her great sword downwards, nailing the Thrall in the top of the head, blade splitting its head in half vertically and then cracking passed the rib cage, going all the way down to the pelvis. The left half of the Thrall leaned over the blade, and the right half flopped over the bridge, its intestines spilling out as it fell over lifelessly, axe thudding against the bridge. Then, a soul spear whizzed passed the knight and hit the railings of the bridge; the sorcerer had cast that spell, intending to help the lass, but that help was too late but at least unnecessary anyways.

The lass and wizard looked at each other, and then ran across the bridge to fight the remaining Thralls irritating the devil. The three Thrall swordsmen by this time were on their feet and keeping their distance, being smaller and so quicker than the devil, running and crawling around like dogs. Angry, the devil stood up and ran, stomping down upon one of the Thralls who tried to run away, the other two swinging their great swords upon the devil.

The wizard cast a soul arrow, but the Thrall, without noticing, stepped out of the way and the magical projectile hit the devil instead, causing him to spin around and starting flailing his arms wildly, and then he slipped on his own blood and fell over onto his side. Instantly, the three Thralls drove their big blades into the devil while he was on the ground, hitting or stabbing him in various parts of the body. He spat blood out his blood like a cobra ejecting venom, and got one Thrall in the eye-holes of his hood, but that did nothing.

The devil got up, keeping his knees bent lowly, and he began flapping his wings to stifle the swinging great swords, and swayed his tail to hit the legs of two Thralls, at least to keep them back a bit longer. The sorcerer and lass reached the devil and drove their weapons into their targeted Thralls' backs, who did not see the sneak attacks coming, lass's great sword and wizard's svardstav skewering bodies, and then the two Hollows kicked the Thralls in the back to rip out their weapons.

The remaining Thrall, making the usual annoying noises that they make, raised its great sword above its head, and at that, the devil kicked the Thrall in the crotch with such force he was raised up and fell over, dropping his great sword midair, twitching on his back. The devil stepped over the Thrall and stomped once in the Thrall's abdomen, with such force that the Thrall's belly ruptured and burst open, lower intestines shooting out its anus, and its liver, spleen and bladder gushing out the sides. The devil applied all his body weight into his foot, pushing out the other internal organs of the Thrall, and then stepped over the short zombie, approaching the church at the end of the bridge.

Finding it a good idea to bring additional weapons, the lass loaded her belt with several Thrall axes and throwing knives; the wizard did likewise, even putting on a Thrall hood, which was better than nothing for his head. The lass took one of the Thrall great swords in her spare hand, so that she carried two great swords, one in each hand, leaning over her pauldrons. The wizard also carried a great sword in his spare hand, why not? The devil stared at the church and approached its entrance, hearing clanking sounding from inside.


	11. Exegesis - Churchgoers

**Exegesis, part 5**

 **Churchgoers**

Placing his hands on the double doors, the devil pushed them open, hearing the immense frames creak and groan, some dust falling from them, then spread his arms apart while pushing forwards, moving the doors open farther. Bloody palms still on the doors, the red fluid trickling down the doors, the devil lifted his head, overhearing the lass and wizard walking behind him. The devil took his first step into the church, but it was quite dark inside.

"Wohh ha ha ha ha ha ha!" Someone laughed massively from inside the church, sounding like a woman's laughter echoing through a gutter pipe, and at that, out of nowhere, this giant spiked metal thing swung from around the back of the double doors and nailed its spikes into the devil's front, immense spikes stabbing through his chest and sending him off his feet; he staggered backwards a few steps, wings expanding to balance himself, but he fell over anyways.

The double doors were kicked open from within, with such force they flung and slammed into the outside walls of the church, and these two hulking women appeared, gigantic mountains of feminine flesh, the ladies perhaps nine feet tall or so. They were known as evangelists, extraordinarily fat, large, and immensely tall women, wearing wide-brimmed hats, black masks for the upper half of the face, loose-fitting robes with leather coverings for the shoulders, a greatly flaring ruff collar, trousers, a bronze breastplate akin to the armour of Ancient Hellenistic hoplites complete with formed masculine abs and pectorals (worn over the robe), leather gloves, and the two ladies were each armed with a tome and a gigantic holy-water-sprinkler with a handle taller than themselves. The evangelists were peculiar in that they were always smiling widely.

The two burly robed women stepped forth, side-by-side, and a motley assortment of undead churchgoers followed behind them, numbering a hundred or so Hollowed citizens, robed acolytes, farmers, tradesmen, and such citizenry. Curiously enough, none of the undead in the church bled, that is to say, their bodies were not regrowing, their bodies did not gush blood from the devil's blood curse. The undead in the church did not seem to have weapons, save for knives, hammers, pitchforks, adzes, hatchets, chair legs, shovels, and such improvised weapons.

The two overweight but powerful evangelists leading a congregation of a hundred zombies looked down upon the devil, and stopped walking, but their flock continued walking until those at the front thudded against the backside of the evangelists, and at that, most of the zombified churchgoers bounced into one another for a few seconds before going to a stop, the evangelists not even budging.

One of the women lifted her holy-water-sprinkler and slammed down the butt-spike, intending to puncture the devil's crotch, but the devil sat up, and then pushed his wings against the ground while rolling backwards over his shoulders, avoiding the weapon. The other evangelist read something from her tome which she opened, and cast a spell, some sort of helical shadowy mass that induced bleeding.

The two evangelists then scurried forth, quite fast despite being so fat, the devil getting up, spreading his wings, and hissing at his two female foes, who laughed at him, for evangelists were always happy. The helical magical projectile swirled into the devil, striking him and causing blood to gush out, but like that was a problem for him. Hissing angrily, the devil scraped one set of talons across the stony floor, and then both evangelists swung their mighty polearms downwards in an overhand manner; the devil skipped sideways, and dodged them, much to the laughter of the evangelists, and grunting of the churchgoers.

Noticing trouble, the knightly lass gripped the Thrall's great sword by the ricasso in her left hand, and then threw it as if it were a giant javelin! The mighty blade arched through the air, both evangelists reading from their tomes to cast more spells, and neither taking their eyes off the pages. As such, the lass's thrown great sword hit the evangelist to the right, piercing her brazen breastplate and stabbing several inches in her chest. The evangelist looked up and cast her magical spell at the lass, the helical magic swirling after her, at an incredibly slow speed.

The sorcerer pointed his svardstav with one hand and cast a soul arrow at the evangelists, and the other one cast her own projectile back, the sorcerer's soul arrow shooting through the centre of the evangelist's swirling magic and bursting against her breastplate. He would cast a few more spells, intending to wear-out the big ladies at a distance, as the moment they stepped apart, the horde of a hundred zombies behind them would rush forth.

The evangelist to the left was confronted by the devil, who was crawling towards her, hissing, bleeding, breathing madly, so she swung her giant spiky thing at him; the devil suddenly sprang upright and grabbed the weapon by its shaft. Two hands stronger than one, the devil overpowered the evangelist, pulling her weapon aside but she still holding onto it, and then closed in the distance and punched her in the face, knuckles cracking against her mask and nose, much to her laughter. She did not even budge.

"We'll cleanse the bastard's curse..." The evangelist who got punched in the face said, and at that, reading from her tome, she suddenly burst into flames, flames that did not burn away her clothes, but served as a shield, "Come here!" She exclaimed softly while trying to hold in chuckling, spreading her arms and intending to give the devil a great big hug.

"Gimme a hug!" The devil replied, letting his mouth and tongue hang open, spreading his arms, and leaning back a bit, tail wagging, wings lifted, and was embraced by the evangelist, burned by her fiery covering, sizzling his pouring blood, whereas her whole front received communion of devil's blood.

The lass and wizard looked at each other, not expecting to see their devilish friend return the affectionate hug. The helical swirling magical projectile of Dark squirmed forth through the air, and hit the lass's visor, causing it to shuffle upwards for a moment and then fall back down with a clank, causing her to flinch. She shook her head and ran forth, armour clinking and creaking as she ran, and the fight commenced! The evangelist who did not give a hug cast another projectile with great laughter, but the lass rolled over forwards with agility despite being cap-a-pied in plate, dodging the projectile by rolling through it (however that worked), and at that, the evangelist walked forth, zombies shuffling around behind her, she not giving a fuck that she had a fucking great sword rammed into her fucking body. Though, considering it was probably stuck in the cuirass, there was no way to easily remove it anyways.

Expecting a tough fight, the knight charged eagerly, gripping her great sword with both hands, the other evangelist continuing her embrace with the devil, but perhaps they were meant for each other despite their contrasting backgrounds. The evangelist facing the knight swung her holy-water-sprinkler down, the lass swinging her sword across its path and parrying it, and then drop-kicked the great sword embedded in the evangelist's armour, kicking it deeper into her body with such force it broke through the backplate and the tip poked out her back, and also causing her to fall backwards and avalanche over several of the undead churchgoers under her, crushing them under her fat ass. The evangelist sat up and started pulling the great sword out herself, hearing it grind against her bones and armour; once out, she tossed it aside and sat there to regain her stamina.

At that, many Hollows inside the church screeched and wheezed, skittering over the fallen fat-ass and swarming the lass as she picked herself up. They struck her everywhere with their hatchets, knives, chair legs, shovels, and whatever else they had, some clawing, stomping and grabbing at her, holding her in place, so she resorted to kicking, headbutting with her helm, shoving, and punching with her left hand repeatedly. The strikes of the improvised weapons did not do much against her armour, but she felt the impact. Meanwhile, the evangelist picked herself up without too much problems despite being so big, but now had many Hollows between her and the intruders, and thus could not partake in the fight yet.

The wizard noticed, but since the lass was confronting so many enemies, he was nervous to cast magic or threw his great sword, less hit the lass. Well, it was not long until she was swarmed and surrounded, so the sorcerer, like the lass, threw the great sword as if it were a javelin, and it arched over the knight's pauldron, edge glancing off its top, sending the great sword bouncing up and then it stabbed through three Hollows, and then struck into the church floor with sparks, and at that, three Hollows were skewered, writhing on the floor with the blade through them.

The sorcerer then charged, summoning a flurry of small soul arrows that blasted forth like grapeshot, hitting many Hollows up to several times, but also hitting the girl's backplate, but her armour absorbed most of the damage while injuring several Hollows. Once close enough, the wizard began jabbing his svardstav repeatedly and rapidly, stabbing into the sides of the Hollows at the lass's flanks as well as stabbing into their legs.

Meanwhile, the evangelist finished her hug with her devilish friend, putting him down as if he were her baby, her fiery aura going away, his body charred at the front, but the burnt parts flaking off and replaced with leaking blood.

Just as he felt himself gently put down, the devil lifted his head and screeched thus, "What, that's it? You fucking fat hooker, I'm going to rape you so fucking hard I'll split you in half and you'll be puking several mouthfuls of semen!" Then, suddenly, the devil suddenly sprang to action, curling his fingers around the top of the breastplate as to grasp it, wrapping his legs around her body, and the devil sunk his fangs into the side of her neck; the evangelist spun about, trying to get the crazy thing off herself, but he refused to let go.

As the wizard, lass, their evangelist, and the approaching horde were busy, a few Hollows swung their arms at the devil, but their limbs just slid down his bloodied frame; the devil flapped his wings at them, blood flopping over them, and they fell over, being the useless cunts they were. The evangelist even thumped the bottom of her tome into the devil's shoulder, but not much else, and since he had horns, she could not easily hit him directly in the head. Her polearm useless, she dropped it and grabbed the devil with her now-free hand by a horn, trying to wrench him off herself, she still smiling, feeling the teeth easily chewing through her collar, shirt, hood, skin, and flesh, even feeling (and hearing) the fangs clicking against her spinal cord.

Not really knowing what to do, the evangelist slammed the devil into the stony flooring of the entrance, a puddle of blood quickly forming, though that did not stop the devil chewing her neck out, breathing like a mad dog, the breath flowing out his nostrils causing the woman's collar to wave. The evangelist used magic to reform her fiery aura, the flames burning the devil, but as an infernal being, he was untroubled by fire no matter how much it fried him.

Dropping her tome, her fire-covering dissipating, the clerical woman picked herself up, grabbed the devil by both horns, and slammed him down again, the back of his head smacking into the stony flooring, and her weight and the impact caused his head to jerk back and so his jaws were finally off the neck, leaving behind a rather large mangled section in her neck and clothing near it. She put one hand over her chewed-up neck, strands of flesh hanging over in-between her fingers, but she still kept a smile on her fat face.

The devil picked himself up to a crawling position, noticing that several undead churchgoers had scurried froth and started attacking the wizard, the lass, and then a few swung their tools at the devil. The lass jerked herself side to side, until she could make room, and then swung her great sword sideways while bending both knees and sliding her feet off to the sides, keeping the pommel levelled to her waist, and like that, spun her sword so that she herself spun around a little, the weight and velocity of her great sword swinging across several legs of several Hollows just as they raised their pitchforks and shovels and handheld tools, and loped off many legs in one swoop; the wizard saw that coming and jumped backwards to evade the blade, his back hitting the evangelist facing the devil, so she turned around and thumped the wizard in the back of the head with her fist then pushed him over.

The devil crawled into the swarm of zombies and swiped his arms at their legs, breaking their knees, and he also gored with his horns and snapped his jaws at the undead, and would stay busy with them for now. The evangelist who hugged him looked around for her book and holy-water-sprinkler, but too many zombies were running around over them!

The lass , keeping her knees bent and feet apart, began swinging her sword so that the blade twirled constantly to and fro, swinging as if the tip moved in the shape of a very wide and short 8, and in this manner, cut many enemies open and kept them back. But she got tired rather quickly, and then a dozen churchgoers attacked her; she gripped her great sword by the handle and blade and began bashing the middle of the blade into the incoming enemies, whilst also attacking with the tip and pommel repeatedly, feeling the enemies' tools striking her armour constantly.

The wizard, who had been pushed down by the evangelist as already mentioned, was piled by several Hollows and they struck him with their improvised weapons and stomped at him as much as they could. Swarmed, the sorcerer summoned his pyromancy hand to action, unleashing a gust of flames forth, waving outwards from his hand, and so burned everything hitting him. The Hollows screeched as flames scalded their skin, set their clothes on fire, and they flinched and danced around in pain. So the sorcerer did them a favour and cast a great combustion to burst outwards from his raised hand in a rather large area, flames waving passed heads, and gave the zombies more pain to deal with.

The sorcerer, still on his back, gripped his svardstav with both hands so that it was along his body at a slight angle, blade over his shoulder, and he swung it down, cutting into a few zombies' legs, but not hard enough to cut them off. As an older guy, the sorcerer picked himself up rather slowly, seeing the evangelist behind the horde of zombies reading from her tome to cast more of those helical-moving magic, so he skipped back to dodge several swung shovels and pitchforks of flaming zombies and began casting magic through his svardstav while holding it in one hand, soul arrows lancing into the Hollows, and he also hurled fiery projectiles out his other hand, and would be shooting magic at them for a while, magic keeping many Hollows at bay, for now.

Meanwhile, the devil trampled over many Hollows, feeling their plethora of tools punish his body but he regenerated rather quickly, and ramming his head, horns and shoulders into their legs and knocking them down, then driving his claws and horns into them and flailing himself, he ripped their clothes and bodies open. Acting as if a playing hound, the devil's actions forced chunks of muscles, lengths of tendons, and internal organs to fly around, shrivelled-up organs appearing. When able, the devil would bite sideways over bellies and reared, ripping bellies open and spilling nests of dried intestines, upon which he would quickly grasp the handful of guts and fling them around.

Without guts, the zombies felt weak and twitched, the devil's pawing knocking them over, and soon the devil was crawling upon the fallen, claws digging into and ripping them open wherever he walked. Since he was constantly leaking blood, and constantly ripping bodies open, the entrance became very bloody; blood ran in little torrents down the bridge and through the railings, falling ashes covering them but not stopping the flow of blood.

Ramming his horns into one farmer, who at the same time swung his shovel down upon the devil's backside, the devil reared to his feet, movement flinging the farmer upwards and then backwards over the devil, and he landed on his back against the railings, his spine snapping as if it were a dried stick. The devil jumped, spreading his limbs and wings, landing atop a dozen or so Hollows, and knocking them all down, but then more Hollows ran over those knocked down and swung their tools at the devil! By the looks of it, there were still quite a lot of zombies in the church, the two evangelist feeling endless Hollows rummaging around their bodies and bouncing into one another.

Very soon, the wizard was forced to skip backwards while casting sorcery and pyromancy, sometimes jabbing his polearm forth into the enemies running at him. The lass was swarmed but shelled in metal, so she'd be fine albeit unable to do much, but she did headbutt with her helm, pointy visor pecking into zombies' faces and poking holes in them. The mass of arms and bodies prevented her from using her great sword, which was grabbed by a few Hollows, so she resorting to stomping into the knees of the zombies, snapping them and so paralyzing them one by one if her stomps connected.

The evangelist who still had her book and holy-water-sprinkler began casting magic, spiralling over her Hollows, but one tall farmer turned to the side, putting his head in the way of the magic, which hit him, gushed out blood, and he fell over the shoulders of his deathly companions.

The devil, getting angry, dove forth into the legs of many Hollows, causing many to either fall over or fall atop him, and at that, a dozen zombies jumped upon him, driving their tools into his wings. After a few seconds, the devil reared, hurling those atop him several feet through the air, and then he thrust his horns upwards, driving them through one Hollow who descended above him and got the horns through his side. The devil flicked his head, and flung the Hollow off his horns so that he hit the evangelist casting magic, causing her to drop her book with a flinch.

The wizard continued casting soul and fire magic at all charging him with great effect; the lass was still swarmed and in a stun-lock. The devil basically went crazy and jumped around, flailing his arms, legs, wings and tail, using everything he had as a weapon, knocking down many enemies and increasing the height of the piled fallen. Although most zombies continued moving, piled under others prevented them from getting back up. It seemed that the winged beast had endless stamina!

Relentlessly moving with strength and speed to frighten anyone, the devil crawled atop Hollows now, claws burying into their shoulders and necks as he crawled, using the undead as his supports, his weight bringing them down, and he nearing the evangelist he had bitten, who continued smiling.

"Keep that smile on your face while it's still attached to your fucking head!" The devil hissed, blood gushing out his mouth and pouring upon the Hollows under him.

Once close enough, the fat woman punched the devil in the face, and quite strongly, he even nudged backwards, and then pounced upon the evangelist, movement of his limbs causing the Hollows under him to be pushed off. The devil tackled into the evangelist, his weight bearing down upon her and causing her to fall, and immediately all the Hollows around her attacked the devil, but he ignored them.

The evangelist, on her back, managed to push the devil off before he bit her, and then kicked him back. Grabbing the evangelist's legs, the devil spread her legs apart then crawled forth, ramming both his claws into the woman's abdomen, and then began ripping her open, trousers, underwear, groin, and vagina torn asunder and blood gushed out rapidly. The devil dug through the evangelist's pelvis, claws scraping against the inside of her hips, and then he started chomping his teeth into her body under her breastplate, his muzzle scraping against the underside of the bottom of the breastplate as he pushed his head forth, biting and ripping mouthfuls of clothes, flesh, fat, and very soon, internal organs.

Writhing and shaking side to side so powerfully the evangelist herself was bouncing around, she unable to breathe or even move, feeling the devil's claws plunging deeper and deeper through her crotch, and then pulling apart anything. The devil was quite the savage fighter, and now most of his muzzle was inside the evangelist's torn groin. Several Hollows continued swinging their tools into the devil, but that did not prevent the reverse-birth going on.

The devil spread his hands apart, pushing asunder the evangelist's groin and splitting her open, spreading apart the anus, rectum, and vagina into the hips, and immediately her bladder, sigmoid colon, large and small intestines, and a rush of blood poured down, the devil feeling the warmth flush over his hands, forearms, face and neck, feeling the pink tubes wetly flop against his skinless frame. The evangelist lost breath, her body twitching, limbs loose, and while the undead flailed their weapons into the devil, he pushed his head into the enlarged crevice of exposed flesh and organs, feeling them tickle his nostrils and push against his teeth.

The devil opened his mouth as far as possible, feeling the intestines, bladder, arteries, blobs of fat, and blood flow onto his tongue and gums, feeling their soft, wet, gooey forms nearly make him retch. He clamped his jaws and then reared, feeling the guts nearly explode as the mass of fleshy pipes spurted out. The devil opened his mouth, feeling his blood and saliva dripping out along with the guts, hearing them plop onto the evangelist's breastplate. He then grasped the hips of the women and pulled on them, hearing them wetly pop and he dislocated them and pulled them from their sockets. He thrust both hands into the body, grasping the spinal cord, feeling the discs poke into his hands, the bed of intestines drooling out the meaty crevice but still flowing around his forearms, and then he ripped a short section of the spinal cord out, arms shooting out of the mass of guts and the spinal cord sticking out of it.

The brutality somewhat shook the undead, who stepped away from the devil; no matter how many times they tried to injure him, his wounds healed before their eyes, yet, oddly enough, never healed beyond a skinless state. The devil's arteries, veins, muscles and flesh thickened, regrowing more, his heart beating audibly, and lungs audibly pumping.

The evangelist was still alive and conscious, blood leaking out her mouth and nose, but she was still smiling at least, as if trying to hymn a song, but there was too much blood in her throat, and having most of her internal organs seeping out, had no strength. The devil grasped the spinal cord sticking out the guts and pulled on it, ripping it out, and at that the evangelist died. The devil then stomped one foot into the mass of organs, hearing them splat and spread apart like red butter, and the devil hissed, leaning over the dead cleric, covered in her blood now.

The devil regurgitated, his bile flammable and burning midair, and upon sticking on the undead, burned them like flaming tar. Diving into the horde of undead, who stood still and watched stupidly as if afraid to do something, and the devil became a whirlwind of claws, swiping the claws at his hands and feet in all directions as fast as he could, claws ripping off clothes, skin, and tearing open bodies. Blood soon gushed out, and the Hollows swung their tools into the devil, who retaliated by flapping his wings rapidly, to flap into the weapons from above and so stifle their force but not by much.

Making more room for others, the sorcerer, who just cut down a few undead with a single stroke of a Soul Greatsword spell, began casting lances of soul magic and hurling fiery projectiles into the fray of undead. This busted open the horde, allowing the lass to break free from his multiple attackers, and so she began swinging her blade lowly, chopping off several legs in one swing, and soon, she was surrounded by legless Hollows, crawling at her, so she stomped down at them as well as stab through their skulls.

The wizard ran forth, sticking his svardstav forwards while running and casting magic while running, soul arrows and pyromancy projectiles flying forth, and then, once close enough, stood beside the lass and swung his svardstav to and fro, the blade cutting across forearms, necks and legs of many Hollows. Together, the wizard and lass chopped apart many Hollows, hands, arms, heads, hats, and blood flicking through the air. The lass stepped forth into several charging Hollows, swinging her great sword across them, the blade flicking off the top half of three different heads, the top half of the skulls flopping over and gushing blood and brains.

The devil trampled the Hollows down and clawed them open, and soon, the work of the devil, the knightly lass, and the wizard, made the horde look like it had gone through a blender! The second evangelist began casting magic, having found and picked up her tome, the dark swirling things, which hit the wizard in the head and staggered him, so he threw a fireball back at the evangelist and burned her mask. The lass and wizard fought the Hollows before them, and whenever the Hollows raised their arms to swing their tools, the lass and sorcerer simply swung their weapons sideways, cutting through the arm and chopping into the head or collarbones.

The devil, crawling upon the undead trying to kill him, leapt over the last portion of Hollows and arched towards the evangelist, who at the same time swung her holy-water-sprinkler sideways highly, hitting the devil across the head and horn and causing him to flop over midair, deep holes in his skull. The wizard saw that, so he summoned a great and heavy soul arrow, feeling the magic rising up the weapon, and then threw his svardstav like a javelin; midair, the catalyst shot the great heavy soul arrow into the evangelist's head, staggering her, and then the svardstav landed in her face, the blade stuck out the back of her head, and the entire weapon passed through her head and skittered along the church floor, stopping beside the great sword the wizard had thrown that skewered three Hollows earlier.

The evangelist fell over lifelessly letting go of her book and polearm; before her holy-water-sprinkler fell over, the devil caught it, gripped it with both hands, and began smashing the evangelist's body with it repeatedly, spikes puncturing her body and then the prism of steel smashing into her skull. After a few hits, the spikes poking holes and the head breaking the skull, the evangelist's skull literally spread apart.

The knightly lass finished off the last remaining Hollows capable of standing, great sword easily going through them and dividing their bodies, and that was that. Weaponless, the sorcerer summoned immense masses of flames to rise from the ground, burning the Hollows, including the ones still moving while piled by other bodies. Their clothes caught fire and the bodies smouldered, the undead hissing, howling, groaning, grunting, and making their usual zombie noises. The sorcerer cast several masses of churning flames, so that most of the Hollows were burning; the lass and devil went around finishing off the wounded or broken undead. The devil was literally stomping skulls until they imploded or spread apart.

Once all the Hollows were dead or burning to death, the lass and sorcerer relaxed, the knightly lady sitting down for a rest, and the wizard stepped into the church to retrieve his svardstav, seeing the three Hollows impaled by the great sword her threw, so he summoned flames upon the three zombies and let them burn away, screeching and groaning.

The wizard picked up his svardstav with both hands, looking at it, admiring it, seeing the reflection of himself in the bloody blade. He realized he had regrown veins, muscles, and tendons, moist and red. He also felt pain. It seemed that the devil's curse was forcing the sorcerer's body to regrow; he was coming back to life, independently from the Curse of this world. He turned around, watching the skinless, fleshy demon crawling into the church with a slight twitch, his whole frame leaking blood that audibly patted against the church floor and then its carpet, and he opening and closing his jaws repeatedly, lower teeth clicking against the upper teeth.

Outside, the lass picked herself up, raising her great sword, and opened her visor to see the work done. The entire entrance to the church was covered with the dead and burning, limbs strewn about, torsos and heads divided, tools here and there, the gutted evangelist's organs stretched from her crotch, and after that, the slain Thralls along the bridge.

"Hm." The lass exclaimed like a girl, and then stepped into the church, having nothing to do but keep following the devil, for now.


	12. Exegesis - Knight of Thorns

**Exegesis, part 6**

 **Knight of Thorns**

Although in medieval Europe is was believed that, if a demon entered a cathedral, he would burn to ashes, Lothric was not medieval Europe. The inside of the church was dark; the chandeliers and candlestands were unlit. It was a stereotypical church, stony, with a red carpet going down the aisle, flanked by pews, and ending to a big altar. There were, surprisingly, a few robed Hollows and a few citizens sitting at the pews here and there, as if sleeping while sitting, or praying so fervently they were oblivious to everything around them. Having a dark but soothing feel, the church felt safe despite the bloodshed perpetuated outside, the Gothic architecture seemingly having birthed their shapes so excellently they were crafted.

At the other side of the church, across the aisle, was an archway in the wall, and beyond that a passageway with an arched ceiling, having a line of chandeliers down the middle of it. The passageway gradually curled to the right and spiralled downward as a stairwell. Rumbling echoed constantly deep down the passageway, as if the stairwell was the throat of some stony beast.

Behind the altar, against the wall, was a huge pipe organ, made of mighty-timbered oak carved with grooves and fluting both deep and beautiful, nearly resemble the grooves of the bark of burr oaks. The immense musical instrument was ancient, just like the church, the wooden grooves and fluting having blood running down them, leaking over the keys and audibly patting against the floor, where a huge puddle of blood had formed, gradually flowing down the aisle. The shape of it was similar to the pipe organ of Berliner Dom, but having many grooves along the woodwork.

Above, amidst the pipework, blood was obviously leaking down down the many brass pipes, for many deacons had been nailed into the woodwork around the pipework of the organ; most were norman human-sized, but some were very tall, and others, very fat and large. The deacons, each fully garbed in his baggy and loose-fitting bright red robe, were nailed through the wrists and overlapped feet, so that they appeared to have been crucified against the woodwork of the pipework. Their robes had a gilded edge along the bottom and ends of the sleeves but not for the skirt, and their robes had gold thread weaved down the middle of the front to make the imagery of their sect. By the looks of it, the deacons were affected by the devil's curse, and so were nailed onto the woodwork of the pipe organ for (un)holy chastisement. Although dead, the corpses continued regrowing and bleeding constantly, clothing drenched with blood, empty eye sockets, mouths and noses leaking the red fluid, as if the flesh was alive, yet no life was within them, ironically. The absence of eyes glowing red also proved their lifelessness.

Sitting at a stool, leaning over as if asleep with his arms on his thighs, was a Cathedral Knight donning blackened armour, who normally would be guarding the Cathedral of the Deep, but here he was; perhaps the Cathedral of the Deep sent some of its knights throughout Lothric to guard the various parishes? Nevertheless, this church was quite a beautiful yet bloody theatre of deception, Beauty and Ugliness, yet another feature to toss into Disparity, why not?

The Cathedral Knight was huge, perhaps ten feet tall or so, wearing a large flat-topped visored great helm, with pronounced framework, and possessing circular and cross-shaped cut-outs for breathe holes. His helm also had two horns, protruding out either side of the eye-slits and bending upwards for twenty inches. The Cathedral Knight also wore some kind of breastplate with laminated faulds (presumably held in place by sliding rivets), backplate, gauntlets, greaves, sabatons, simple spaulders, and a mail shirt worn beneath the plate, split from the groin down front and back. The mail hanging over the legs was under the bottoms of a robe, and the knight also wore a bishop's mantle it seemed; his robe, trousers and bishop's mantle were white.

The sleeves of the Cathedral Knight hauberk were peculiar, in that they were quite baggy at the ends, hanging down two feet, perhaps to resemble the loose-fitting sleeves of a robe. Not only was the hanging extensions of mail towards the ends of the sleeve pointless, it added extra weight for the arms and shoulders. The knight also wore a chained amulet around his neck, the circular symbol resting over the breastplate, just at the top of the gold-engraved image at the breastplate. As already mentioned, unlike other Cathedral Knights, this one wore black armour and white clothing, but his mail was left as if, with a raw grey colour, but having patches of rust and holes here and there.

The Cathedral Knight's huge-headed metal-shafted flanged greatmace and oversized great sword were leaning against the organ to his right; his metal great shield was leaning against the organ to his left. His shield was large and rectangular, having curvature, with a blue face but having a gilded metal rim riveted along the sides of the shield, and having a gilded symbol on the front, that of an eagle standing on a circle above a chalice or something. For now, the knight was just sitting there, leaning over, great helm resting against the keys of the organ, so long that there was no sound to be heard from the strings.

This Cathedral Knight had long, thick, fluffy, curly black hair, which hung down in-between the bottom of the back of helm and above the top of the backplate, his hair flowing down his backplate and spreading apart. The knight was unaffected by the devil's curse, his Faith and holiness overwhelming.

Curiously enough, this knight had many large nails along his belt, even a hammer placed down a loop of leather, so that the head of the hammer hung by it, suggesting it was he who decorated the pipe organ with the bodies of the deacons. He also had two Clerical Candlesticks at either side of his belt, a kind of candlestick that was also a sword, having a candlestick as a hilt, and a wavy blade pierced with holes down the middle. The magical devices were both swords and catalysts for magic, useful for baptism by fire. The knight appeared to be sleeping, or praying.

The devil, the wizard, and the knightly lass reached the first pews, overhearing the the waves outside down the mountain, the winds blowing the ashes through the air, the rumbling down the spiralling passageway, and the crucified deacons' blood dripping down the frame of the organ. Then, a strange noise sounded, the sound of a summoning. Halfway down the aisle, in-between the pews, on the floor, a swirling reddish glowing circle appeared, not blood, but magic, and rising from it, a figure of blackness with a reddish aura. The person who emerged arose while his head and shoulders were low, feet mostly together, hands over his lap, and gradually rising politely upright as a Dark Spirit. The lass and wizard stood at the flanks of the devil, knowing what an invasion was.

"Who the fuck are you?" The devil asked, crossing his arms.

The man who arose appeared to be a knight covered with thorns on his armour, and wielded a barbed sword and a round, convex shield covered with jagged spikes. The helmet was like a framework of bands in the shape of a great helm with a rounded skull, covered with jagged spikes. The breastplate, sabatons and vambraces were without spikes, but the pauldrons had about a dozen upward curving blades each, the backplate had a contorted section of jagged things, and the sides of the vambraces, cuisses, and greaves had tapering spikes and blades on the outer sides. The armour was also peculiar for having leather strips hanging down the sides of what appeared to be very short but split faulds, the leather straps having four metal rings lined down the middle. There also was a short skirt of mail, like bases but made of mail instead of plates.

Overall, this thorny knight's spiky armour was quite creepy, amplified by he being a Dark Spirit, armour looking black while having an aura of deep red. Oddly enough, the fingers and knuckles of the gauntlets did not have even gadlings; surely, such an armour of thorns would have spikes in the more practical parts of the armour!

The Dark Spirit appeared out of the summoning portal fully, and at that, the Cathedral Knight came to life with a snort, rearing his head, and then he opened his visor, hinges squeaking. After a moment's pause, the Cathedral Knight looked down upon the keys, and his iron-clad fingers pressed the keys, he playing the theme of Old King Allant (how he knew that king's theme is anybody's guess). As the old brass pipes and the ancient ducts vibrated, the entire church shook a little, dust and a little rubble falling here and there along the walls and from the ceiling, and causing the trickle blood to wiggle as it leaked. The Cathedral Knight played smoothly despite wearing so much armour.

The murderous Knight of Thorns walked coolly towards his three foes, unfazed by the odds, the organ music playing behind him, and his spiritual form seeming to silence his footfall. Seeing as the name Kirk means church, such a place was suitable for him. The wizard lifted his svardstav and was about to cast magic, but the devil grabbed the staff with one hand, and the wizard looked at him; the knightly lass stepped forth to initiate combat, but the devil put his other arm in her way.

"No, you two stay away, guard the church entrance and that passageway that's spiralling down. You two did so much for me, now it is time I repay the concern," the devil said, and pushed both his friends back, "go on; this man is brave, I will get rid of him myself."

At that, the knightly lass and the sorcerer stepped backwards, turned around, and walked away until they were at the entrance, to watch the fight and guard the devil's rear. Facing his foe, the devil lifted his head for a moment, as if to gesture the knight to walk faster. Suddenly, the devil jumped forth, flapping his wings, causing blood to spatter about everywhere, flicking the drops of red fluid upon the pews and a few churchgoers, but they remained asleep sitting in the pews nonetheless.

Kirk reacted by rolling forwards just before the devil landed upon him, bladed armour ripping the devil's chest and abdomen open, and at the same time, the knight had rolled through underneath the devil before he landed on the floor. Finishing his roll and going to his feet, Kirk swung his barbed sword upwards, spiky bits ripping open the devil's lower back. Spinning around, movement waving blood upon the Dark Spirit, the devil approached Kirk, walking quickly and heavily, the organ playing away behind him.

Kirk put his shield in front of him and walked sideways, slowly circling around the devil, who lunged forth with a big overhand right punch; Kirk bashed his barbed shield into the devil's right arm, barbs stabbing into it, and then he thrust his sword into the devil's sternum. The devil, already having an addiction to pain and so feeling no discomfort whatsoever, grabbed the top rim of the shield, fingers and palm squeezing over the edge, a blade poking through the palm and sticking out the backhand; at the same time, the devil grasped the barbed sword with his left hand, barbs hooking into his palm and fingers, and he held both articles tightly.

Kirk's wielded arms were rather stuck, pulling his sword and shield back, feeling the jagged spikes tug against the devil's flesh, but he could not retrieve his arms, so he kicked at the devil's shins, sabatons knocking against the shinbones, and then Kirk headbutted the demon in the chest, jagged blades of his helm making many cuts and holes in-between the devil's ribs, and he had to rear back to rip the helm out! The devil let go of the sword and shield suddenly, and quickly wrapped his arms around Kirk's armour, just above the faulds, and then the devil picked Kirk up, spun around, and slammed him against the floor, blades at his backplate scrapping against the carpet and stone floor underneath, making rips along the carpet here. The slam caused the devil's blood to suddenly and momentarily gush out and pour over Kirk, he feeling the warm blood flow into his armour.

The devil, without armour and weapons, had little means to defeating Kirk, who's spiky and bladed armour would definitely be useful against such a foe as this devil. On his back, Kirk pressed his feet against the devil's stomach and straightened his legs, lifting the devil away from himself, and then he swung his sword and shield side to side rapidly, waving them one after the other across the devil's chest and front of his shoulders, tearing apart more flesh, the poky parts of his sword and shield having little strips of flesh on them.

The devil chuckled, placing his hands in-between Kirk's shins and pushing them apart so that his body fell forth in-between them, and then slammed his hands down against Kirk's pauldrons, holding him down against the floor and so also preventing him from using his arms very well, but Kirk did still manage to stab his sword into the side of the devil's rib cage, and punched his shield so that the blades stabbed into the devil's right bicep. The devil then regurgitated blood upon Kirk's helm, the puking lasted a few whole seconds, the knight feeling a fountain of blood rinse his helm and flow upon his spiritual face and head (good thing he was only in spiritual form!), and somewhat surprised from that, Kirk paused, not knowing what just happened. Taking the advantage of his hesitation, the devil reared his head and then flicked it forth, and exhaled fire, blasting it over Kirk's head.

Feeling the heat rush over and into his helm, face burning, and the devil's blood that leaked upon him sizzling, Kirk kicked and writhed, but the devil was quite strong in the arms, and held him down, so Kirk punched his shield into devil's face, hearing the jagged spikes puncture the devil's face, but the skinless, fleshy beast did not care and continued exhaling the torrent of fire anyways! Kirk kept his shield raised, feeling the fire flow around the rim of the shield, the devil consistently tilting and moving his head side to side to breathe fire around the shield, Kirk also moving his should about to keep blocking most of the flames. Kirk managed to wrench his barbed sword out the devil's rib, feeling the barbs constantly getting stuck amidst the ribs, and then thrust it through the devil's throat, tip stabbing clean through the neck and poking out the back; fire continued blasting out the mouth but some flames flicked out both holes in the neck.

Kirk tilted his sword, and then began sawing it sideways, feeling the barbs tugging and ripping the tissue of the neck, hoping to saw off the devil's head, blood pouring out and patting against his helm. The devil's regurgitation of flames ended, some of it fuming out the rip in his neck, and upon realizing that that was happening, the devil grabbed the blade above the hilt, holding it in place, so Kirk bashed his shield into the devil's head, the top part of it hitting the side of the devil's horn which stifled the momentum.

Rearing his head back, the devil felt the thorny blade rip out his neck, Kirk struggling under him and bashing his shield repeatedly into the devil's face and front, blades poking many holes in him. Now that the devil had lifted himself a bit, Kirk bent his knees and kicked both feet into the devil's front, pushing him back. Kirk rolled diagonally sideways and was back on his feet, possessing such great acrobatics and conditioning that his armour was like clothing. The devil huffed and stood up, Kirk taking the advantage and charging, slashing his sword in a backhand manner and gave the devil a nasty ripping cut across the chest, and then followed that with an upward thrust into the sternum, the hilt ramming against the devil's chest and the blade sticking out his back.

"Ah ha! Have fun pulling that out!" The devil laughed, leaning into Kirk so that the knight felt his breath and blood falling upon him, the devil also sticking his long serpentine tongue out and curling it upwards, and then the devil received a shield-bash to the face, the spiky face of the shield clinking against his teeth and skull, but his teeth, like the teeth of dragons, was as hard as stone, and remained undamaged, but the devil did retract his tongue back in his mouth.

Kirk headbutted the devil in the chin, spiky helm stabbing into it, immediately feeling some blood leak upon him, and then the devil put one arm under Kirk's groin and another arm around his side, so that both hands met at his back, and then the devil lifted Kirk like that and spun around, slamming him head-first into a pew, breaking through it; Kirk's sword remained skewering the devil's body.

Emerging from the broken pieces of wood, Kirk gripped the handle of his shield with both hands and ran forth, smashing it downwards against the devil's front, the jagged blades scrapping against his flesh and making many rips, the rib cage visible, torn veins hanging and spewing tiny torrents of blood. The devil did not have make an attempt to defend himself as Kirk repeatedly hit the beast with his shield.

The devil managed to move both hands around the sides of the shield, each hand grabbing one of Kirk's forearms, palms pressing against the tapering spikes protruding from the sides of the vambraces, the thin spikes poking clean through the devil's hands but his fingers remained squeezing like the jaws of a tightened vise. He held Kirk thus, who could do nothing, so he kneed the devil in the abdomen and groin. The devil spun around, dragging Kirk with him, and then threw him to the floor.

Somewhat irritated, Kirk got back up, but kept his distance, walking sideways and circling his foe, wielding his shield with both hands, overhearing the church organ playing away, the devil in the dark awaiting the knight's next move.

Meanwhile, the knightly lass had sat on a pew at the back, sitting beside a robed acolyte. She was leaning forwards, shaking and twitching, sobbing, helmet pressing against the pew in front of her, forearms crossed, and she just sat there crying. Her great sword had its tip placed against the floor, with the rest of the blade leaning against her pauldron, hilt above her. Blood was constantly leaking out the eye-slits of her helm, out her visor, underneath her breastplate, and out the gaps and joints of her armour. The pew soon got quite bloody, steadily dripping off the seat, and a puddle formed at her feet.

The sorcerer was leaning against the wall beside the entrance, also bleeding like crazy, shaking and twitching as well. He looked at his hands, seeing the veins bulging and working, the tendons forming white ridges amidst his flesh. He even realized he was breathing, feeling pain everywhere throughout his body. The pain was horrible, yet he did not feel much suffering, for now. As his nerves and skin grew back, that also meant pain returned, and he even began thinking that he was better off Hollow and painless instead of alive and suffering! Looking at the knightly girl, and seeing the thorny knight and the devil exchanging strikes, the wizard could not figure out anything. He leaned his svardstav against the wall, hand sliding down its shaft, smearing blood along the wood.

Who was he? What was his name? Where was he? Why was he here? He did not have the answers, but Hollows did forget their names and memories, and he still did not remember those, yet here he was, feeling life and pain. He gradually slid his back down the wall, sitting down, knees up, head and arms low. He could do nothing but sit and embrace the agony, hurting so much he could not stop shaking. He wanted to cry out, to scream, to call for help, but no words came out, he did not regrow enough flesh and blood for that. The music playing from the huge pipe organ helped take the wizard's and lass's minds slightly away from their pain at least, though the sounds of Kirk's shield ripping open the devil, the dripping of blood, and the devil's footfall, were constant reminders of their situation. The few Hollows sitting at the various pews remained oblivious and inactive.

Kirk's fight continued, he using a mix of shield-bashing and sudden rolls along the devil, so that every time the devil swung his arms or tried to bite the knight, Kirk's spiky shield struck at the devil's face or arms, whilst his rolling caused the blades of his armour to cut along the devil's legs and lower body, making it difficult for Kirk to be grabbed. The devil did kick and stomp, push-kicks staggering Kirk, but every time he staggered, Kirk would suddenly roll away, keeping his distance.

Amidst Kirk's inability to kill the devil, whose body continued regenerating before the Dark Spirit's very eyes, regardless of how many times his shield and armour cut him up so much blood poured out, the Knight of Thorns became frustrated; surely, no-one could could lose that much blood and still fight! Yet, here the devil was, as active as ever, constantly leaking blood, the carpet drenched in it already.

Irritated by Kirk's constant rolling, the devil spat blood at Kirk's helmet, the blood doing nothing. Finding no threat to the spat blood, Kirk charged the devil, pressing his shoulder into the backside of his shield, so bash with it with greater power, and that was when the devil breathed fire again. The flames swirled around the spikes and jagged blades of Kirk's shield and armour, but he ran forth anyways, pauldron still pressing against the backside of his shield, and he dove into the devil like that, tackling into the beast with so much power, the devil lost balance and fell onto his back and wings.

Kirk mounted the devil, sword hilt in-between the knight's knees, and he still gripping his shield with both hands, and began smashing it in the devil's face repeatedly, perforating the skull and face like a maniac. Causing blood and bits of flesh to fly everywhere, Kirk had essentially made the devil's face look like someone used a grater against it. The devil, after feeling the blades puncture his skull so deeply that the face of the shield also smashed against his face, stuck out both hands and grabbed the edge of the shield, his hands having many holes and so less strength and grip could be utilized. Kirk pulled his shield up, pulling it out of the devil's grasp, and continued smashing his face with it. The devil presented his arms as shields, but the spiky knight simply bashed into the forearms.

Just as Kirk reared to deliver a powerful smash, his shield's spikes covered with blood and torn bits of flesh, the devil thrust his waist upwards while turning around, causing Kirk to lose balance and fall forwards but still somewhat mounted upon the devil. The beast quickly put one arm around Kirk's back, feeling the spikes there pierce his arm but not caring, and then the devil managed to squirm behind Kirk with both arms wrapped around Kirk.

The knight wriggled, but could not free himself, so he let his right hand off his shield and started smacking it against the devil's arms. Chuckling, the devil flipped Kirk backwards over himself, so that Kirk flipped backwards over the devil and landed on his helm, all the weight of the rest of his body, armour and legs rolling over him.

Fortunately, Kirk's helm, worn and supported by the pauldrons, absorbed much of the force, and so his neck did not break. Kirk rolled backwards over his shoulders upon being flipped over, and was on his feet, right hand feeling the back of his helm for a moment, but there spikes were in the way. The devil walked towards Kirk, intending to grab him again, so Kirk punched his shield forwards into the incoming arm and spun with it, dodging the other arm and so being behind the devil. Kirk then drop-kicked both feet into the devil's back, causing him to fall forwards upon a pew, breaking through it.

"These pews are made of such thick wood, you'd kinda think they were sturdy!" The devil whined, picking himself up, and then saw one of the Hollows, who wore a robe, stand up.

The Hollow did something to himself, and engulfed in flames, then ran towards the devil screeching, flaming. Not knowing what that meant, the devil looked to the side, seeing the Hollow jump at him, and explode upon landing. The exploding Hollow break several nearby pews, and hurled the devil off his feet. Kirk reappeared, rolling across the devil's front, so that the spikes at his backplate stabbed into the devil, and the knight's rolled finished and he was off the devil.

Kirk and the devil got up at the same time. Angry, the devil grabbed a piece of broken pew and threw it at Kirk; the chunk of wood stuck in his helm, blinding Kirk for a second. After pulling the wood off his helmet and tossing it aside, Kirk saw this big angry skinless devil charging him, so Kirk jumped at the devil, diving his helmet into the devil's face, blades stabbing into the skull, and at the same time, grabbed the hilt of his sword sticking out the devil's chest. At the same time, Kirk received the tackle of the devil, but Kirk's feet hit the floor, he stabilized himself by bending both knees and poiting his right foot forwards and left foot out to the left, and pushed back, the two locked in a grapple, Kirk's feet sliding backwards along the carpet for the devil was overwhelmingly stronger than he was.

Unable to pull the barbed blade out, Kirk resorted to punching, elbowing, and headbutting the devil, and once he stopped sliding, he felt the devil deliver powerful uppercuts into his armour with such force his armour literally shuffled, and the devil's knuckles cracked. Kirk punched the devil across the jaw, then backhanded with his vambrace so that the spikes stabbed into the devil's head, but neither blow did much; the devil was too big and too strong.

Kirk swung his shield in one hand, blades scraping across the devil's chest until the rim hit the side of his sword hilt, and at that, Kirk knew he would have to retrieve his sword to defeat this monster, which he had already blended quite well. In fact, his shield and armour were covered with strings and strands of flesh, up to several inches long, flopping and swaying around as he moved. Kirk, Knight of Thorns, was quite the blender as he rolled about here and there, evading the devil's arms while cutting him apart. Even when the devil jumped, flapped his wings, and dove at Kirk, he always managed to roll out the way, the devil sometimes crashing into the pews and destroying them.

The Cathedral Knight continued playing smoothly, even leaning and swaying as he touched the keys, baggy sleeves sliding along the front of the organ, continuing the theme of Old King Allant, and then, as Kirk and the devil fought, the devil kicked Kirk in the groin; the Cathedral Knight made a mistake while playing the organ. At that, the Dark Spirit dropped his shield and bent over from pain.

"That's what you get for rolling around like a little fucking hedgehog!" The devil assured, lengths of flesh flapping over his skull; Kirk struggled, leaning over, and grabbing his sword by its hilt. "Go on, try to pull your sword out of me, who was the smart guy lunging it through me?" The devil asked, pushing Kirk by the helm a bit, blades poking through the devil's perforated hand.

Then, Kirk jumped, drop-kicking with both feet midair, and at the same time grasping the handle of his sword with both hands and pulling on it; as he fell, he also pulled the sword out using the help of gravity and his weight, barbs of the blade ripping out more flesh. Upon landing, Kirk put one hand over his crotch, his brief exertion and then the fall hurting him. The devil stamped his heel into Kirk's breastplate, perhaps not yet understanding how armour works, but the force still shook Kirk.

The Knight of Thorns, still on his back, swung his sword sideways, cutting across the devil's stomach, though no guts fell out, for the devil was just a skeleton covered with flesh. Anger, the devil kicked across Kirk's helm, forgetting it was covered with spikes, which stabbed into the top of his foot until the foot struck the framework of Kirk's helm, the force jerking Kirk's head to the side. Pulling his leg back, the devil stood on a rather disabled foot, but did not care; his body would regenerate soon enough anyways. But never beyond a skinless state.

Kirk, quite sore between the legs, sat up a bit, but then the devil mounted him; at the same time, Kirk kicked one leg upwards, extending it, the armoured heel striking upwards under the devil's jaw, which audibly cracked, and shifted the devil to a tilted angle. Kirk sat up and swung his sword across the devil's head, but the devil lowered his head and blocked the sword with a horn. Upon his sword being parried, Kirk pulled his arm back, then thrust the sword into the devil's eye socket, blade popping out the back of his head.

The devil laughed aloud as the barbs scarped along the inside of his eye socket, his laughter causing blood to pour out as always, Kirk feeling the blade nudge as the hooks tugged along the walls of the socket, red liquid crying out the natural hole. Kirk being tired and in pain, the devil grappled him around the body, picked him up, and then jumped, flapping his wings, moving wings spattering blood everywhere upon the pews and few Hollows sitting at them (the Hollows made no reaction). Up and up he went.

"Why didn't I think of this before?" The devil asked, feeling Kirk squirm and kick, and once the devil felt the tips of his wings flick against the domed ceiling, he suddenly folded his wings and flipped upside-down, plummeting, and slamming Kirk head-first upon crashing into the blood-soaked carpet; as always, that force caused much blood to leak off the devil, and he hit the carpet with a splat.

The impact caused Kirk to lose grip of his sword; within a second, the devil, still having his arms wrapped around the knight, flew up again, wings flapping rapidly and powerfully, until he reached the ceiling, and then dove down again, slamming Kirk head-first into the floor. Upon the second slam, the Dark Spirit became limp, and the aura swirled away, Kirk fading away into nothingness, as did his sword and shield. The devil sighed with relief, and sat, wings and tail outstretched. Upon the duel finishing, the Cathedral Knight finished playing Old King Allant's theme, and then he leaned into his organ, heaume thudding against a few keys, playing the according pipes until they could no longer. One of the Hollows sitting at the pews praying sneezed, but remained inactive.

"Now this is what I call going to church!" The devil exclaimed happily. "Oh, wait, I remember something..." He continued, standing tall and spreading his arms, and then he laughed aloud, laughter echoing, red liquid spurting out his mouth, he smacking his thighs, palms splatting blood about.

When the devil spoke, there was something about him; he snapped his fingers of his right hand once, and at that, all the chandeliers and candlestands lit up, as did the devil's hands, hands engulfing in flames; the veins along his nervous system appeared to have tiny embers swirling within them, and flames flicked out his mouth and empty eye sockets, causing the blood in them to sizzle.

The deacons crucified into the organ, one by one, twitched a bit, a few even groaned or exhaled, slowly coming back to life. With the chandeliers and candlestands lit, the extra lighting provided a better view of the deacons crucified against the pipe organ; their bodies reached the top of the woodwork, and much blood adorned the organ as tiny rivers. The candlelight flickered, the back of the Cathedral Knight's armour reflecting it, and at that, he woke up again and sat up straight, slowly, but did not turn his head.

"Your other self already came this way, already spread your... flesh-curse." The Cathedral Knight said, not even budging, sounding like a mountain of iron, his voice very deep and powerful, so deep it was almost difficult to understand, hardly a surprise due to his gigantic size.

Upon hearing the voice and its slight echo, the devil paused, staying still in a position as if he were about to smack his thighs again. After a second like that, he stood up straight, and clasped his hands behind his back, opening his wings up a bit, and then flicking his tail sideways so that the tip went around the front of his feet. Tilting his head, leaning to the side a bit, and letting his jaw hang loose, flames still flicking out his eye sockets and mouth, the devil looked partly amused.

"Did I now?" He asked.

"Mhm. Thirteen Darkwraiths went after him, though I do not know what happened to them, but I have a feeling, they were all slaughtered. I suppose they think your other self is quite the Dark Soul, for whatever reason. Why are you here?" The Cathedral Knight asked.

"I don't know." The devil replied, walking down the aisle, the deacons crucified against the woodwork moving a little.

"Hmph. Your other self said the same." The big knight grumbled, hearing the devil's footfall.

"How did you know I had bilocated?" The devil asked, now rather curious.

"I spoke with your other self, he, or you, told me about you, or he. At first, I thought that it had something to do with the flow of time, which is convoluted in this realm, but it seems you can bilocate, appear in two different places at the same time, as if behaving independently from the laws of this world" The Cathedral Knight said; the devil stood beside him, and clasped his hands behind his back, looking straight ahead at the book displaying notes above the keys.

"And how does time coil?" The devil asked, looking at the knight's huge helm.

"I cannot know, it is beyond my understanding, but I suppose that time flows like a spiral, and as the length of time overlaps and touches the previous length, it mingles with the past. But what was it, the time, or the coiling? Whatever, it does not even matter." The Cathedral Knight replied, rising, and then turning to the side, to look at the devil up-close and face-to-face, the big chevalier audibly breathing through the breaths of his helm.

After a second, the devil cocked his head, opening his jaws for a moment so that he could lick his damaged muzzle, tasting the iron flavour of blood, slid his tongue back in, and kept his mouth closed. Blood continued leaking down the pipework and woodwork of the organ, the deacons crucified against it moving or twitching a little, though they had no means to free themselves from the nails driven through them.

"Well, your other self went into the volcano; if it erupts, all those in the sarcophagi will die from the lava and fumes." The Cathedral Knight said, and at that, the mountain rumbled. "Quite an unpleasant death, to be broiled alive while trapped in a stony prison, not knowing what was going on outside..."

"I don't care about them; if their souls were worth a damn, that chance is gone, no mercy now." The devil assured firmly.

"But, this volcano's eruption, it will also feed the Flame. As the Flame dies, so will those bound to it. But, it seems that geological activity is stronger than pyromancy. The lava will flow, creating light and heat, and thus keep this age going, for a while longer. Truly, no bonfire can match the power of molten rock." He continued.

"If the volcano erupts and continues this... this age, a small sacrifice you should pay, so that others can benefit and outlast you." The devil said, crossing his arms and lifting an arm with an open hand, then crossing his arms again; the Cathedral Knight nodded.

"Your other self thinks otherwise. He wants to stop the volcano from erupting, valuing the corpses in the stone coffins, probably using your flesh-curse to build an army, amass a force, and conquer this world for himself. If he commands an army of living yet soulless bodies, his enemies cannot benefit from killing them. They will eventually run out of souls, then be unable to acquire more souls, and go Hollow, and become afflicted by your flesh-curse, resurrecting them as soulless but living beings." The Cathedral Knight said.

"Ah, yes, so it is up to me to stop him, to stop my other self, to stop my bilocated self, make sure I don't convert your world into that of my likeness. That's why I came to this world, I think, to go against my other self, and save your world from my affliction, but I will still use it to make allies. I was, prior, in another dimension. And what about you? What do you want for this world?" The devil asked.

"I don't care. Life is a curse, and the Curse is life; your curse is life, and life is a curse. We are forced to exist. Whether all of this passes on, or stays, is the same. The only difference is that you cannot take anyone with you. Even if your flesh-curse takes over this world, it will eventually end, and everything that you had done, will eventually be forgotten and lost forever." The Cathedral Knight replied.

"What is it worth to a man who gains the world, and loses his life?" The devil asked, the knight chuckled.

"I have nothing to lose, nothing to gain, nothing to change, nothing to stop. I just want to stay here, and play the pipe organ I have beautifully decorated with the bodies of the deacons. At first, I found your flesh-curse as evil, I viewed it as blasphemy, so I punished those afflicted with it, and journeyed to the other parishes, slaying and crucifying any and all afflicted by it. Then, I met the source of the flesh-curse, your bilocated self, and he explained it to me. I had journeyed so far, killed so many, crucified many more, to destroy it, and everything was for nothing. I then changed my mind, I thought this flesh-curse was good, but I had not the power to revert what I had done. I could have journeyed to all those places, to remove the nails I had hammered through so many, but I know that will destroy my spirit, I would go insane, and become a Hollow. So I came back to this church, not even bothering to free those I had nailed right before me... and now, here you are, and now, I view your curse no different to ours. It is neither evil nor good, neither wrong nor right, just another..." The Cathedral Knight said, looking at his pipe organ, the blood leaking down it, and those crucified against the woodwork, "...Another key of an instrument; everything good or evil, depends on the player."


	13. Exegesis - The Darkwraiths

**Exegesis, part 7**

 **The Darkwraiths**

The devil put a hand on the Cathedral Knight's pauldron, patting it, leaning over the knight so that he could hear and feel the devil's breath and leaking blood, and the devil said, "We have no choice, we are bound to our curse. We are both locked in an eternity of Disparity whilst trying to defeat our inner darkness, our other self, our bad side, what we do not wish to become. But we become what we destroy, even when we destroy the darkness within us."

At that, the devil turned around, wings swaying like great curtains, and he walked down the aisle, talons hooking into the drenched carpet as he stepped. He noticed the lass and the wizard, and that they were healing. Once he reached them, he stood before them, and clasped his hands behind his back. The lass sobbed away, shaking like a leaf of steel, armour clinking continuously.

"Both of you are quite the heroes, hunh? Neither of you thought twice before following me, maybe I thought wrong of this place, called Lothric, or Lordran, whatever—same thing—just from another time and place. I see that neither of you can handle the pain, such is the greatest feature of life. Without pain, you cannot know pleasure. But what do you prefer, truly: harmony, or agony?" The devil asked, leaning forwards, "Personally, I prefer the agony."

The lass tried to get up, feeling a rush of anger, dropping her great sword and hearing it hit the floor, her poleyns striking the back of the pew in front of her, she grasping the tops of the backs of the pews to stabilize herself, and she faced the devil, bent over a bit, swaying, feeling too much pain to stand straight. The devil leaned over some more, towering over the lass, the two only hearing their own blood dripping out of them.

The knightly Hollow girl, once she felt she had the energy, leaned over some more herself, audibly breathing in short rapid breaths, "Fuck you," she spat, voice raspy, sharp and wet, voice causing blood to leak out the bottom of her visor, "fuck you." she continued as if with her last breath, and at that, relaxed a little, as if satisfied for saying at least that, then she lost strength, bones feeling like jelly, and she fell to her knees, left arm over the seat of the pew.

"You're welcome, is that how you repay me for bringing you back from the dead? Well, I did not do it myself directly, my bilocated self did. You know how strange it is, to be thinking with two heads at the same time, yet unable to control the other? I can feel the thoughts of my other self, but it does not confuse me. I have been following my other self for so long, and I made it this far. If you want to be free, go outside, and hurl yourself over the bridge. You will at least drown in the sea below, your armour will make you sink. I don't need you." The devil replied, no longer impressed by the chevaleresse, and then he walked towards the passage spiralling down.

The lass exhaled weakly, looking up, she and the wizard watching the devil go as if he didn't care about them anymore. Limping and writhing, the sorcerer went to the lass and knelt on one knee, his svardstav leaning over a shoulder, and he offering her a hand to help her up. Not wanting to feel helpless, the knight waved her arm across the wizard, knocking his offered hand aside. The wizard leaned again, this time more acutely; in his free hand, he held a canvas talisman of some kind. After a few seconds, the wizard cast a miracle, an aura of golden light appearing around him and the lass. The miracle of aid helped, at least a little, a portion of their gory bodies healing.

Feeling better, but still in pain, the lass picked herself up with an angry grunt, gripped her great sword and lifted it, and walked after the devil. The sorcerer walked with the lass, the two leaving behind bloody footprints as they went. Looking down the aisle, the wizard saw the back of the Cathedral Knight, who just sat there before the pipe organ, and did nothing. Then, the lass looked out the entrance of the church, seeing all those bodies, the devil's blood that poured everywhere, and the two dead Evangelists, and chuckled.

"At least I did that good." She said to herself; the wizard nodded, and cast his healing miracle again, and both felt much better, but were nevertheless still in pain; it seemed that by this time, they had regrown enough to speak, and were slowly understanding their environment.

"We have nothing to lose, might as well follow the demon for a while longer. If what that big knight said is true, if this volcano will erupt, might as well see if we can survive or escape it. There is nothing else to do anyways, do adventurers truly sit and do nothing?" The wizard said; the lass chuckled, opening her visor and looking at the wizard, her smile broadening, showing her teeth, her body still leaking blood everywhere exactly as the devil's curse did.

"But still, fuck that demon." She remarked, then looked down the spiralling passageway; the Cathedral Knight remained seated at his organ, and started playing it again, playing whatever theme that the Cathedral of the Deep was.

As the devil walked down, his blood leaking down the passage faster than he was walking, he already seeing it trickle down beyond him, overhearing the organ music echoing down the passageway, and then he heard the footfall of the wizard and the knight, the wizard's svardstav knocking against the flooring, and the lass's armour clinking and clicking as she walked. The devil looked back while walking, feeling one of his wings touch and slide against the wall, and saw his two companions appear around the central pillar the passage spiralled around. The rumbling, when it was heavy, shook the chandeliers lining down the ceiling.

"So, you changed your mind?" The devil asked.

"Fuck no, fuck you." The knightly lass assured, causing the devil to chuckle.

"Fuck yes!" The devil exclaimed, and then when he faced forwards, suddenly this Darkwrath was in his face.

The Darkwrath was a kind of undead, who wore very jagged, rigid armour with a dark, grey, barky texture, and the Darkwraiths were very tall, perhaps seven feet tall or more. The breastplate was peculiar in that it was somewhat shaped like a rib cage but damaged down the front. The armour was crafted to have a skeletal surface, so that the lames looked like plates of flattened bones. They did not wear a helmet, leaving the dark skull open, with black hair flowing out of it and hanging like a cape down the back. The pauldrons had, apparently, twigs or crooked bones sticking out of them. They were unaffected by the devil's curse.

The Darkwraiths carried only one weapon, the Dark Sword, which had a large, broad blade with a deep fuller, but no pommel or a pommel that was very small. The base of the blade had short lugs, and then an extremely short and narrow ricasso, that branched off into three sections that connected to the thin cross-guard, which was as wide as the width of the lugs of the blade. Such a strangely formed sword would be quite weak, yet the blade did not snap off upon impact.

Well, this Darkwraith ran to the devil, apparently having went up the passageway from below, the wraith's spare hand glowing purple. The Darkwraith's hand latched upon the devil's face; the magic drilled into the devil's skull, the wraith grasping the beastly face, causing him to go semi-limp and slowly fall onto his back, the Darkwraith whispering deeply some sort of arcane language or prayer, leaning over the devil once he was upon his back, and the Darkwrath's magic draining the beast.

The lass and sorcerer just stood still and watched. Once the Darkwraith finished draining the devil, he politely stood up, not even bothering to finish-off the devil! The devil sat up as if nothing had happened. Two more Darkwraiths appeared, running passed the first one, forming red aura-like shields with their spare hands and charging the lass and wizard. The second one that appeared ran towards the wizard, and the third one charged the chevaleresse.

The sorcerer immediately cast a great and heavy soul arrow, but it did little against the targeted wraith's magical shield. Humorously enough, the second Darkwraith slipped on the devil's blood that had leaked everywhere, and fell face-first into the slope of the passage. The first and third Darkwraith, the knight, and the wizard looked at the Darkwraith who just slipped and fell. The wizard and lass then looked at eachother, hearing the footfall of the third Darkwraith getting louder. The lass nodded strongly, so that her visor fell closed, then she brandished her great sword, ready for another hard fight.

The third Darkwraith charged the wizard, his magical shield going away, then he swinging his sword upwards and spinning around, preforming the dance-like moves the wraiths did. The wizard skipped back, extending his svardstav so that it stabbed into the wrath's head. The lass quickly turned to the side and swung her great sword at the Darkwraith; when he finished his spin, he raised his sword without looking and blocked the great sword. He then quickly formed another magical shield, sticking it out at the wizard who cast another soul arrow, blocking the magical projectile, and then bashing the magical shield in the lass's helmet, staggering her.

The wraith then push-kicked the lass and staggered her farther back; she got angry and swung her great sword, but the Darkwraith dodged it, turned around, and charged the wizard. He knelt on one knee, placing the butt-spike of his svardstav on the floor under one foot, and presenting the point forth, of which the Darkwraith ran into and so his charge was stopped. The wizard then summoned a flurry of soul arrows, so many that they staggered the Darkwraith. The wizard stepped forth, parrying the wraith's attack with his shaft while sliding both hands towards either end to prevent the fingers being chopped off, and then quickly parried the second swing with the blade. The wraith swung again, and the wizard defended himself so that he moved the blade of his polearm across himself from his left, the blade knocking aside the wraith's attack, and then the wizard quickly positioned his polearm so that the blade was along the outside of the Darkwraith's neck, and then the wizard, both hands still gripping the shaft, wrenched the Darkwraith to his left while tripping him with one foot, and so the wraith fell over, landing on its back to better defend itself.

The wizard pulled his svardstav back, aligning it, and then rammed it into the Darkwraith's armour, where it opened at the front, giving it some damage. The wraith grabbed the shaft with his spare hand and held it then, swinging its sword forth, but the sorcerer leaned back and dodged the blade. He then summoned a big soul arrow, which shot out the blade and so was cast into the Darkwraith's body, injuring him farther, but it remained active. The wizard looked behind himself, feeling the wraith squirm, so he quickly put his body weight into his grip to hold this Darkwraith down against the floor, for now.

Meanwhile, the second Darkwraith, the one who slipped and fell, had already picked himself up and ran forth, charging into the lass's side; she turned her head and saw him coming, but did not have the time to react, and was hit across the helm by the wraith's Dark Sword. He then formed a purple aura with his spare hand, intending to grab the lass by the visor and drain her life with the Darkwraith's iconic purple magic, whatever it was, and swung it forth.

The lass was ready for that, and swung her great sword into the incoming arm, knocking it aside, and then she pulled her sword back to block the Darkwraith's own chop. She then leaned into the wraith, headbutting her helm into the enemy's skull, and at the same time, positioned her great sword so that the blade was in-between the Darkwraith's legs, and by tilting it diagonally, the ricasso was in front of the wraith's left greave, while the tip behind the wraith's right ankle. Thus, but ramming her pauldron into the Darkwraith's breastplate, not only did she dodged a second attempt of being grabbed by the draining magic, she also tripped the Darkwraith, and immediately mounted him (although taller and larger than the lass, the Darkwraith's back was facing down the slope, and so he lost balance easily).

Atop the Darkwraith, the lass let go of her great sword, as it was rather stuck amidst legs, and she unsheathed one of the daggers at her belt, gripping it so that the blade pointed down from her hand, and she began stabbing it repeatedly into the Darkwraith's skull. The Darkwraith formed a magical shield and smashed it in the lass's head, then stuck ti in her visor, blocking her attempt to stab him, and the two would be kept busy like that for a while.

At the same time, the devil, who had sat up, quickly crawled into the first Darkwraith's legs just as he was about to stab its blade downward powerfully, grabbing it around the legs and standing up, picking up the Darkwraith, and then slamming him against the wall. The Darkwraith hit the wall and slid down it, face-to-face with his demonic foe, the devil's blood leaking upon the Darkwraith's skull, both skulls with empty eye sockets glaring at one another for a moment, and then, with his free hand, conjured the bright purple aura of draining magic, and grabbed the devil by the throat, choking him while also draining him of life.

Feeling himself weakening, the devil could handle pain and wounds, but choking was different, feeling the gauntlets squishing against his throat, windpipe, and trachea. In return, the devil grabbed the Darkwraith by the neck with both hands, lifting him up until he was forced to let go of the devil's neck for two arms were stronger than one hand, and the devil held the wraith against the wall. The Darkwraith, despite being manhandled, bent both knees and lifted his legs, striking the devil in the head with the bottom of his sword's hilt, and at the same time extending his legs to push back the devil with them. By doing so, the Darkwraith formed more room, and swung his Dark Sword down, chopping into the devil's forehead, the edge cracking open his skull and dashing out blood.

The devil growled, and, still holding the Darkwraith with both hands by the neck, slammed its skull into the floor, the wraith's skull knocking against it loudly. The devil mounted the Darkwraith, his blood leaking upon the wraith's skull, armour and hair, and then the devil began punching into the wraith's skull repeatedly with both fists. Feeling heavy blow after heavy blow, jaw cracking from every hit, the wraith formed a magical red shield with his free hand and stuck it forth to intercept the punches, blocking them, but then the devil simply grabbed the Darkwraith's left forearm with his left hand, and pushed it down across the wraith's front into the floor, thus pressing the magic shield against the floor, and then continued bashing the skull into the floor with his right hand. Unable to free himself due to having one arm pressing against the floor while it was across his chest, this Darkwraith was rather stuck for now, only able to rather weakly stab his sword into the devil's side.

Back to the wizard, who was still pushing down upon his svardstav into the Darkwraith's sternum while blasting magic into it, this third Darkwraith formed a magical shield in his left hand, and then his arm, throwing his magical shield into the wizard's face, knocking his head back; the magic shield then quickly faded away. The wraith then managed to pull the svardstav out himself, pulling to aside, blade quenching from so much sorcery, blueness swirling around the blade, and then the wraith managed to sit up, still grasping the svardstav and using it to pick himself up, feeling and hearing a soul arrow cast out of it and hit the floor next to him.

The wizard could either let go of his svardstav and lose it, or keep holding onto it and not lose it! He decided to keep holding onto it, even though the wraith still held onto it. The wizard lifted the butt of his staff so that it hit the Darkwraith in the jaw, at the same time also dodging the Dark Sword he swung, so that only the hilt hit the sorcerer's shoulder and not the blade. While the lass and her Darkwraith wrestled, she still atop him, the wizard grabbed his talisman from a pocket, and cast a miracle that released a shock wave, the sonic boom sounding afterwards, and it hurled the Darkwraith back, but he landed on his feet and slid backwards along the bloody flooring.

Putting the talisman back into his pocket, the wizard gripped his svardstav with both hands and got ready, the third Darkwraith stepping forth and swinging his Dark Sword diagonally upwards from below, twirling with it. Despite being an old man that was a wizard, he was quite good at martial arts and fighting in general, clearly shown due to having a catalyst with a blade on the end, and he used the length of his weapon to stab into the Darkwraith's skull while skipping back, keeping his distance from the Darkwraith's swordsmanship.

The wizard jabbed repeatedly while also casting simpler soul arrows, creating a consistent series of stabs and soul arrows to whittle away his opponent. The Darkwraith, formed a magic shield and stuck it forth, blocking the magic and stabs, but it did slow him down. The wizard then started thrusting low, hitting the greaves and sabatons of the Darkwraith with blade and sorcery, not doing much, but the strikes aimed low caused the Darkwraith to lower his shield to protect his legs, and that was when the wizard lunged his staff into the wraith's eye socket, and cast a great and heavy soul arrow within the skull.

Upon feeling the inside of his skull ring with magic, the aura of the soul arrow fuming out both eye sockets, the nasal cavity, and the mouth, the Darkwraith staggered back, rather stunned. The Wizard held his staff horizontally in front of himself, and rammed the middle of the shaft into the Darkwraith's skull while leaning into the bash, knocking the Darkwraith back even more, but it remained on its feet, grunting with a hollow voice and swinging his sword upwards from below, cutting into the wizard's robe and body. The sorcerer gasped, feeling the blade sliding along his front, but he could not give-up, and he pushed his staff downwards, hitting against the blade rising up his abdomen, and so preventing it from cutting him open farther.

The Darkwraith kicked the wizard in the crotch and he immediately crumbled; the Darkwraith pulled his Dark Sword back and intended to swing it around and so behead the wizard, but he suddenly thrust his svardstav upwards diagonally while leaning away from the swing, so that the Dark Sword hit the shaft only, whilst the blade stabbed underneath the Darkwraith's jaw and stabbed upwards through his skull, the tip of the blade poking out the top of the wraith's skull, causing the skeleton to exhale with a grunt.

The Darkwraith instantly grabbed the shaft, kicking the wizard in the side powerfully, causing him to bend over in pain, and then the wraith pulled the shaft downwards, feeling the blade sliding out the hole on his skull. The wizard quickly lifted the shaft with both hands, so that it was above himself and he held it in an overhand manner with both hands, and then he summoned a powerful soul arrow to blast at point-blank range into the Darkwraith's neck, staggering him as he coughed and wheezed. Left hand still grasping the shaft, blueness of the sorcery swirling out his neck, the wraith pulled the catalyst aside and swung his sword downwards at the same time, and cleft the wizard's head asunder, twirling away from the old man.

Skull split, the wizard knelt, dropping his svardstav, blood and brains leaking out as he fell to his hands and knees, he breathing heavily as he felt so much blood pouring out his head. Yet, he did not die, that is, he was still undead and regrowing, but was not truly killed to a point that he became inactive and his soul left him. The devil's curse remained in him, forcing his body to constantly regrow, and so he could not truly die. Presuming the wizard to be dead, the Darkwraith turned around, intending to attack the lass, but suddenly, the wizard reappeared behind the Darkwraith, grasping his svardstav so that he held it with both hands horizontally, and placed the shaft over the Darkwraith's head and pulled it back, so that the shaft was pressing against its throat.

Leaning back so that he sustain stronger grip and footing, the wizard turned and so the Darkwraith turned, feeling the Darkwraith trying to escape, swinging his sword backwards by flicking it, but the sorcerer was constantly moving to and fro, split skull closing itself back together when strands of flesh appeared, seemingly knitting the halved skull back together. The wizard would be busy, shaft locked over the third wraith's throat.

The lass continued trying to stab her dagger into the Darkwraith's skull, as well as try to push the dagger into the gaps of his armour, but since the wraith was just a skeleton, he would be quite difficult to truly kill. He retaliated by bashing the bottom of his sword hilt into the lass's helmet, and then summoned the draining magic in his left hand and grabbed the lass's visor. The magic seemed to surge through her helmet, and she quickly became weakened, going nearly limp and struggling to stay mounted atop the wraith. The Darkwraith wriggled backwards down the slope of the passageway, until making enough room, he let go of the knight's visor and curled the back of his leg over the side of her helm, so that the back of his right knee was around the side of her helm, and pulling with his leg, pulled the lass off himself.

The second Darkwraith was now mounted atop the lass, punching her visor open, causing blood to flick out, and then he rammed his hand onto her face, steel-clad fingers scraping up along her face underneath the bowl of her helm, and then he summoned the purple aura, casting the life-draining magic while pushing his arm down, eager to suck the life out of the lass, and there she would lie in some trouble.

Meanwhile, the devil was still punching the first Darkwraith in the skull while atop him, and the wraith was still stabbing the devil's side with his Dark Sword, and neither made much progress, but the devil bled many litres of blood upon the Darkwraith. Neither seemed able to conquer the other.

Suddenly, the devil titled his head and snapped his jaws over the Darkwraith's skull, locking his mandibles, and then began rearing his head repeatedly like a bear trying to rip a chunk of meat off a body, trying to rip the skeleton's head off! Feeling his neck bones crack, the Darkwraith quickly summoned the purple draining magic in his left hand, managing to free his left arm, and then he grabbed the devil's throat, fingers squeezing and then curling into the flesh, fingers breaking through both arteries and causing much blood to gush out, his draining magic sucking the strength out of the devil. The devil placed both hands against the Darkwraith's pauldrons, which were easy to grasp due to they being jagged and covered with twigs or crooked things.

Both fighters attempted to overcome the other: devil's brawn and Darkwraith's draining magic damaging their targets. The wraith, feeling his neck about to dislocate, squeezed his left hand as much as he could, feeling the magic cause his forearm to vibrate, and then managed to push his sword into the devil's side, blade sliding into the skeleton until the hilt struck the side of the rib cage, though the devil's jaws remained affixed over the wraith's skull. Blood gushing and magic being sucked out of his body, the devil regardless refused to let go, like a dog that bites onto another.

The Darkwraith exhaled sharply and angrily, squeezing his left hand until he felt his fingers grasping the devil's trachea, and he pulled back with such force he ripped the trachea out the devil's throat, and crushed the cartilage between his fingers, hearing them crack within the plates of his gauntlet. The devil immediately breathed with a high-pitched sound, which was both loud and frightening, like wind blowing through a narrow pipe, yet he did not give-up, and continued rearing his head, his torn throat gushing blood out like a cracked gutter pipe.

The Darkwraith, strength-draining magic still formed, placed his left hand over the devil's muzzle, to keep the magic draining the devil's energy, and then slid his Dark Sword back and forth, sawing through a few ribs, and then the devil, with a high-pitched howl, straightened his arms, pushing himself back, hearing the wraith's neck crack repeatedly, until the devil reared back fully, and so ripped the wraith's head off, hair leaking blood.

Spitting the skull out, hearing it rolling down the passage and hair flicking blood everywhere, and then the devil grabbed the Dark Sword handle sticking out his body, stood up, and ripped the sword out of himself, high-pitched breathing accompanied by blood audibly leaking upon the floor. The devil walked up the passage, clawed toes clicking against the bloody floor, and looked up the passageway. He saw the lass having her face sucked out of life, she becoming desperate and kicking and writhing, but also stabbing her dagger into the second Darkwraith's skull, even punching him with her free hand, trying anything to free herself. The Darkwraith was also bashing the bottom of his hilt into her helmet, to keep her uncomfortable.

The wizard still had his shaft over the third wraith's throat while behind him and grasping the shaft, so the Darkwraith got angry and ran backwards into the wall, ramming the sorcerer's back against it. The wizard felt the blow hurt his spine, and from that, lost strength. The Darkwraith then reversed the grip of his sword, held it with both hands, tilted his body, and stabbed his Dark Sword backwards around his waist and into the wizard's body. The old man felt blood leak out his wound and head, and everywhere else as usual, and the Darkwraith jumped forwards, Dark Sword going out the wizard and the wraith freeing himself from the svardstav; the wizard still held onto it with one hand. The Darkwraith spun around, flicking his sword upright, and chopped across the wizard's head, chopping into it and he fell over.

The third Darkwraith, now free from the wizard, noticed the devil walking up, breathing like howling wind, blood gushing out his torn throat like a fountain, falling down between the devil's legs, and then running in-between his legs and down the passageway. The devil titled his head and leaned forwards, opening his jaws, sticking his tongue out and curling it upwards.

The third Darkwraith charged, summoning a magical red shield out his left hand as Darkwraiths are wont to do, running past the second Darkwraith who was still sucking the life out of the lass, and charging the devil. The skinless winged beast swung his Dark Sword sideways as strong as he could with both hands, breaking the Darkwraith's block and causing his arm to fling back, devil's movement also flicking blood onto the Darkwraith as always, and then the devil raised his sword to bring it down powerfully.

The Darkwraith recovered instantly and raised his own sword, blocking the devil's vertical slash, edges of both blades chipping into one another, and both blades went into a bind. Not being much of a swordsman, the devil pushed on his sword, intending to push over the Darkwraith, but the wraith simply grabbed the devil's Dark Sword under the tip, holding it in place, and then immediately lunged his own sword clean through the devil's chest, followed by a headbutt to the nose, then push-kicked the devil back, letting go of the devil's blade at the same time; the wraith's own sword slid out the devil's body as he was kicked back.

The devil raised his sword up high again, so the Darkwraith swung his sword upwards from below and twirled at the same time, cutting open the devil's pelvis and then rising the cut into his forearms as he brought his blade down, the wraith displacing the path of the devil's slash and stepping out of it. Obviously an inferior swordsman to the Darkwraith, the devil got angry and threw his sword into the wall, hearing it clang against it, and then he jumped upon the Darkwraith, who at the same time pointed his sword upwards; the devil fell upon the Dark Sword and then its wielder.

Angry, the devil grabbed the Darkwraith by the sides of his skull, thumbs curling into the eye sockets, and began lifting the skull and then smashing it against the floor continuously, the back of the wraith's skull smacking into the floor audibly, splatting against the blood running down it as well. The Darkwraith, feeling whiplash constantly, upper teeth and lower teeth clicking against one another, managed to thrust his sword into the devil's side, but as always, it did almost nothing; the devil could not be killed in a conventional manner, or had to undergo a ridiculous amount of punishment before succumbing to wounds.

The devil hissed through his torn throat, and began wrenching the wraith's skull side to side, trying to dislocate it from its neck. The Darkwraith summoned its draining magic and grabbed the devil by the muzzle, and the devil felt that strange magic sucking the life out of him, as if the gauntlet was releasing his strength through his head. The devil, before going limp, reared his head, getting it away from the wraith's dark magic, and then the devil bit over the cuff of the gauntlet of the left hand. Pulling his head back again, the devil also pulled the gauntlet partly off the wraith's hand, and then his front teeth snapped shut over the wrist, breaking the bones and so biting the hand off.

The dismembered hand still had its strange Dark Hand magic going on, so the devil spat it out and the gauntlet, both hitting the floor soon. Missing his left hand, the wraith was now quite vulnerable, so the devil quickly grabbed the Darkwraith by the neck with his left hand, and grasped the wraith's skull with his right hand, and began shaking both articles of bone. The Darkwraith, leaving his sword embedded in the devil, let go of it and began punching the devil with gauntlet and bones of his forearm, and the devil ripped his head off and that was the end of him.

The devil finally noticed the lass, who had gone limp, the Darkwraith mounted on her still draining her of strength and life, so the devil threw the Darkwraith head in his hands at the second Darkwraith, both skulls smacking into one another, and then just as the second Darkwraith looked up, the devil tackled into him with such force the Darkwraith dropped his Dark Sword. The devil and Darkwraith rolled around, wrestling, the Darkwraith summoning magic out both hands, so that his left hand utilized the draining magic, whereas his right hand summoned the magical red shield that swirled forth out the hand, and bashed the shield into the devil while grabbing his face with the left hand to drain him of strength as usual.

The devil and Darkwraith ended up on their sides facing one another, legs facing down the slope, the Darkwraith lying on his left shoulder and devil on his right shoulder, the Darkwraith bashing his magic shield into the devil to no great affect. The devil attempted to bite over the wraith's skull, but the wraith beat him in biting, and bit the devil on the throat, at the edge of the hole, undead teeth gnawing against it, and life-draining left hand grasping the devil's eye socket. The magic shield dissipated, not really needed in this circumstance.

The devil, unable to get the wraith off himself, gradually stood up, the Darkwraith wrapping his legs around him and gnawing away at his torn throat, still draining the devil's strength, but the devil still managed to get up anyways, and then jumped, and upon falling, slammed the wraith against the floor. The impact allowed the devil to quickly put a hand between his neck and the wraith's skull, and pushed down while lifting himself up, feeling a chunk of his neck rip off, the Darkwraith eating it, so the devil bit his head over the wraith's skull.

Bottom teeth under the Darkwraith's jaw, and upper teeth over the top of his skull, the devil applied greater and greater force, feeling the Darkwraith pushing against his head, trying to open his mouth, but to no avail, even when the draining magic was utilized against the beast. Soon, the wraith's skull formed cracks, and then broke apart, the devil's mandibles crushing the skull as if it were a big hard candy, the devil's own teeth breaking apart the wraith's own jaw and teeth. Mouth snapped shut, feeling bones poking into his gums, throat and tongue, a few splinters of skull falling out the hole in his throat, the devil stood up.

Neck having quite a big hole, the devil dropped on all fours, writhing on the spot, doing something to himself, and his body began regrowing rapidly, much faster than before, hole in his throat healing closed, a new trachea regrowing in its place, and then his own blood began bubbling, veins popping, arteries bursting, and tendons moving back and forth wildly on their own. Flames started flicking out the devil's mouth, eye sockets and hole in his throat, and smoke also fumed out. After several seconds in this state, body cauterized from within, his holes and wounds healed over, however, he remained in a skinless, fleshy form. The flames and smoke subsided, but he still felt them flow around his tongue.

Once the devil's internal pyromancy and strange blood-magic finished, he looked around, seeing the three Darkwraiths he had killed with his hands, chuckled from that, and then saw the lass and the wizard, both of whom were motionless. The devil approached the lass, wondering if she was dead. He noticed that the pipe organ stopped playing.


	14. Exegesis - Into the Volcano

**Exegesis, part 8**

 **Into the Volcano**

Feeling a little empty, the devil exhaled, blood leaking out his mouth for a second, and then turned around, walking towards the two dead Hollows. His curse had given them life, gradually making them human again, and here they lied, dead again. Perhaps it was better to just leave them be? The rumbling returned, shaking the chandeliers for several seconds before subsiding.

The devil overheard footfall, so looked down the passageway; more Darkwraiths were approaching, undoubtedly attracted to the profound darkness they sensed within the devil's soul. Looking around, the devil grabbed a Dark Sword in his right hand, and then grasped the inside of a dead Darkwraith's disembodied head, four fingers curling out its eye sockets and thumb going out its jaw, to use the back of the skull as a makeshift hairy shield. The devil walked down the spiralling passage, his body leaking so much blood by this time it ran in little rivers along the floor.

Ten Darkwraiths appeared few by few from the curvature of the downward passageway, slowly walking in a loose group, their bones and bony armour clicking as they moved, all of them summoning their magical reddish shields in their left hands, and broad-bladed sinister Dark Swords gripped tightly.

"You couldn't bring any more of you?" The devil asked with a chuckle, and then overheard metallic footfall.

"No, but I will help even the odds for you." A deep voice spoke, so the devil turned around, and the Cathedral Knight appeared, walking into sight, greatshield and greatmace in either hand, and his greatsword sheathed at his right side diagonally. At his belt were two Cleric's Candlesticks, a short sword that was made in the likeness of a candlestick, with a cross-guard consisting of six quillons bending down the blade and each ending as a bobeche. The Cleric's Candlestick had a serrated blade that was pierced with diamond-shaped holes down along the centre.

"Oh? I thought you were just doing to play your big piano until the volcano erupts." The devil remarked.

"Ha! Hell no! I changed my mind; I was solemn and broken, but I am a knight of The Cathedral of the Deep, I will not shy from danger or be destroyed by regret. I will not sit and do nothing before the end comes, I want to die excited and proud, just as a knight should! There is no purpose being silent and defeated. Not even my cathedral could discover what lies beyond the Dark and the Light, but I do not care, it means nothing to me now." The big knight said, coolly walking on, one foot slightly slipping along the devil's blood on the floor, and then noticed the two dead Hollows.

The big knight silently said a prayer, and an aura of light, healing, embers, Humanity and Perseverance formed around him, he summoning a unique miracle into himself and the two dead Hollows, and resurrected them as the swirling shards of Humanity appeared and then burst asunder. The lass and the sorcerer coughed and picked themselves up, the blood that used to be leaking out their bodies no longer running, simply evaporating away by the Embers that empowered the two Undead. They were freed from the devilry, but back to being part of the Curse. Their bodies and clothes or armour slowly shimmered as jagged flowing lines in the semblance of embers.

Then, the sorcerer and the lass reclaimed their flesh, an aura of white and black appearing and then flowing into them, both still Undead, but at least they now looked human, with flesh on their bones, blood in their veins, and color in them. The lass was a young white woman, and the sorcerer an old black man, who despite his age was still quite muscular. Oddly enough, neither of them made much of a reaction, as if not caring whether they were Hollow or not.

"I think we are better off accursed with what we know, rather than be consumed by a new curse we do not know." The Cathedral Knight said, and by this time, the ten Darkwraiths were within seconds of charging.

"Amen." The devil remarked slowly, and then the Cathedral Knight gestured with his head, greathelm shifting slightly, in regards to the ten Darkwraiths.

The Cathedral Knight charged, placing his greatshield in front of himself and plowing its front into the Darkwraiths, sliding down along the bloody floor, feeling their blades and bodies striking it, and knocked down three of them who were unable to keep firm footing on the floor slippery from blood. Instantly, several of the skeletal menaces swung their swords into the big knight, edges striking his armour and shield. He then swung his greatmace lowly across his front, and with such force that in a single swing, he hit several legs, and three more Darkwraiths were taken off their feet. The remaining four piled the Cathedral Knight, who then summoned a forceful miracle out himself, unleashing an outward gravitational push that sent all ten Darkwraiths sliding away from him up to several feet, as well as send blood smearing along the floor and walls near him.

Impressed by what he had seen, the devil sprang to action, jumping over the Cathedral Knight and landing upon the fallen Darkwraiths, swinging his Dark Sword and pummelling with the Darkwraith head he gripped from its inside, striking anything and everything he could. While on their backs, the fallen Darkwraiths raised their swords to defend themselves, but most managed to pick themselves even while being attacked.

The Cathedral Knight raised his shield and smashed the bottom rim downwards upon a Darkwraith picking itself up, knocking it back down, and then the Cathedral Knight began swinging his greatmace downwards here and there, swatting the Darkwraiths down. The Cathedral Knight's weapon and shield were empowered by the miracle Force, the strikes causing shock waves that increased the power of impact, the hits breaking off the growing twigs on the Darkwraiths' armour.

The lass, also being a knight, eagerly dove into the fray, leaping passed the Cathedral Knight and swinging her great sword downwards midair, breaking the guard of a standing Darkwraith and the bade continuing to hit its head. It retaliated by swinging upward in a dancing manner, cutting into the lass's armour but doing basically nothing. She headbutted her helm into the Darkwraith and wrestled with him, whilst the sorcerer, wielding his svardstav and pyromancy in either hand, began casting great and heavy soul arrows and hurling exploding balls of flames in-between the lass and Cathedral Knight, to barrage the Darkwraiths.

All fallen Darkwraiths lifted their legs and flicked themselves to their feet, and began smashing their magical shields into the Cathedral Knight's own shield and armour, while cutting like crazy at the two knights and the devil. The devil parried some attacks with his improvised Darkwraith head, and swung his Dark Sword with great fervour and fury in all directions he could, smashing it against bone and armour, until the blade broke. At that, the devil threw the head and Dark sword hilt at the enemy, and then dove into the legs of the Darkwraiths, frantically clawing, goring his horns, and wrestling, tripping several Darkwraiths.

The Cathedral Knight jumped upon a tripped Darkwraith, and began stomping his clad boots upon the skulls of the Darkwraiths, headbutting with his great helm, and, of course, smashing his greatshield and greatmace powerfully and quickly down upon the bony enemies, keeping the skeletal beasts down. The Darkwraiths swung their swords even when on their backs, but amidst the compact situation, they had no room to roll around less hit the walls or themselves, and obviously could not fight back very well.

The sorcerer ran up-close to the Darkwraiths, stopping his pyromancy and gripping his svardstav in both hands, ramming its blade into the Darkwraiths nearby the lass while casting magic. One fallen Darkwraith rolled forwards, slipping in-between the two knights during the fighting, and then leapt at the sorcerer.

The old black man ducked, gripping his svardstav diagonally to block the incoming sword and then lunging it forth. The Darkwraith blocked the incoming sword tip with its magical shield, and then summoned its Dark Hand, intending to grab the bearded black man in the face and suck the life out of him.

Seeing the Dark Hand coming, the sorcerer dove into the Darkwraith's body while swinging the butt of his polearm upwards from below, so that it was in-between the Darkwraith's legs, and then the sorcerer, lifting his shoulder while pushing his polearm up at the same time, and so flipped the Darkwraith over himself. Once the Darkwraith landed on its back, raising its sword to stab the sorcerer, the wizard kicked aside the sword and then rammed the blade of his polearm into the Darkwraith's skull while releasing a soul arrow inside it, splitting the skull open, and then swinging his polearm sideways, beheaded the Darkwraith.

The lass, empowered by flesh, Humanity and muscles, fought much better and stronger, exchanging blows with the enemy, Dark Swords and great sword exchanging parries and cuts, but the power of the Cathedral Knight was too much, and the heroes overwhelmed the Darkwraiths. It was not long until the Cathedral Knight began crushing skulls with his shield and mace, and the devil was biting skulls off. That, added with the sorcerer's soul arrows and the lass's ferocity, the Darkwraiths were defeated one by one. Making sure the remaining fallen Darkwraiths were disabled, the lass preformed a "Well! What is it!" gesture.

"Motherfuckers aren't so tough now." The devil remarked, feeling quite glad he did not have to deal with another round of too many enemies! He then looked at the Cathedral Knight, and said, "Thank-you."

"You're welcome. I suppose we are friends now. Anyways, now that we are friends, what is your name? Or do you not remember it?" The Cathedral Knight asked.

"How could I not remember my name?" The devil replied, looking at the knight with his empty eye sockets, a little confused and surprised.

"Oh, it's just this thing we have in our world. Us Undead gradually forget everything about our lives, we lose our memories, oldest first, until we do not now our own names. Then, we go insane, and became Hollow. But it does not matter. Who are you?" The Cathedral Knight asked, the devil slightly tilting his head.

"I am Spirry." The devil replied, and the big knight chuckled, not expecting to hear a name like that, expecting something that sounded more... evil.

"Well, at least you have a name, devil. I am Sir Michael." The Cathedral Knight said plainly.

"Pleased to meet you, Michael." Spirry said, pronouncing the name in Hebrew (so it sounded like "mee-kah-ell"); Michael nodded.

"Now, let's go find and kill your other self." Sir Michael said, and then he started walking down the passage, and the devil did likewise.

The lass and the sorcerer looked at each other, and then she shrugged. The rumbling came back, dust falling from the ceiling and the chandeliers shaking.

"We haven't been doing anything other than following him and fighting things, might as well keep doing it." The lass remarked; the wizard stroked his beard.

"Yeah, we have nothing to do, nothing to lose, nothing to gain... I don't think life in Lothric has changed. Let's go, and see what happens." The sorcerer said, and so, the two walked on, why not?

The lass jogged after a while to catch up to the two big fellows, the Cathedral Knight turning his head for a second while walking as she approached him, her armour clinking.

"Hey, so what's going on?" She asked, slowing down to a walk and opening her visor.

"This devil's other self has already went down into the volcano, and intends to stop its eruption somehow. He wants to do this so that he can preserve those trapped in their graves up above. His sorcery forces bodies to regrow flesh while overcoming the Curse and the Darksign, and so he can amass a force to gradually break the Curse. Unfortunately, he does this solely to bring back suffering, as he is an extremist sadomasochistic monster. The Undead are better off Hollow and painless than alive and suffering. He already met me and told me everything, but I did not care back then. Now I will." The Cathedral Knight replied.

The lass recalled how she was rudely awakened form her sarcophagus so long ago, and how much she writhed in pain as the ashes sizzled her skinless body. How much she squirmed like a burning worm in the ashes, breathing it in; she never felt so helpless in her memories. Then, in the church, how she shook in pain, how her entire body emanated hurting, probably because her nerves were growing back and that brought pain. She wanted revenge against whatever caused this to her.

"And what about you?" The wizard asked in regards to the devil, catching up to the group. Looking at the devil, the sorcerer heard the devil's heart beating, even heard his veins leaking blood.

"And what about me?" Spirry replied, a bit confused.

"Why are you here? Where did you come from?" The sorcerer asked, everyone walking on quietly, somewhat interested in the devil's background, who was definitely different.

"I am seeking out my other self, to kill him. Or kill me, however you see it. Sometimes, I bilocate in the past or future or in other realms and dimensions; I have no control over this. Where I come from, time means nothing; in your world, time is whorled. I know of other realms having a flow of time that loops. But, all of that is not important. My other self has brought my curse into this world, and so I feel obligated to do something about it." The devil answered, which was good enough.

The farther down the path, the more broken it was. Cracks adorned the passageway, with occasional roots growing through the jagged openings as well. In some other cracks, smoke fumed out, and occasionally, a gap in the floor had a tiny bit of lava flowing underneath. The smoky air did not stop the explorers.

Eventually, they felt the heat of the volcano, and reached the end of the spiralling passageway. It opened up into a vast rumbling chasm (the interior of the volcano), which had huge roots growing down the walls and reaching the bottom way down. It appeared that, long ago, the roots were tied together, forming bridges along the walls gradually spiralling down and up, but also leading to various caves here and there. Some roots extended across the chasm, as if tied from one spot to another. Other long narrow roots hung down, possibly to serve as swings. Nevertheless, most roots were ancient and brittle, and portions of the constructs had already broken apart.

This chasm was extremely smoky, fuming with smoke and vapour. Breathing the heat down here was painful, the heat burning the nostrils, throat, lungs and stomach, but being Undead, the humans did not mind, and the devil, being accustomed to suffering, was not bothered at all.

The devil walked to the ledge of the passageway, which ended as the start of a bridge, the rest destroyed long ago and currently missing. It seemed that there was once a stone bridge that arched across the chasm, Spirry seeing the other side of the volcano and noticing an opening there, as well as the remains of the start of a bridge from there.

"Hm, I can glide down here and there, so I will go on ahead and scout around. The rest of you will just have to find another way down." Spirry remarked, spreading his wings, and then ran forth and jumped off the remnants of the bridge, and glided away, disappearing into the vapour and smoke rising from below.

The two Undead and the Cathedral Knight looked around. The lass found a suspended root hanging nearby, and going down several dozen metres. She then got an idea, putting the blade of her great sword down her belt. Grasping the root in both hands, she stepped off the bridge and slid down the root, and soon hit the convoluted roots below, serving as a platform leading to the bridges.

The wizard followed suite, putting his svardstav under the arm and keeping the arm tight against his body, grasped the hanging root in both hands, and slid down it. He landed beside the lass, and she then stepped forwards, walking down a bridge made of roots as fumes of smoke and rising heat bellowed from far down below. A few seconds later, the two heard a crash and spun around, seeing the Cathedral Knight stuck halfway through the platform of roots. Pulling himself out, the Cathedral Knight crawled a tiny distance while sliding his greatshield forwards, and then picked himself up, shaking a little so that his armour shuffled, and then he shrugged.

"I was never good at jumping, or falling, or landing." The big guy remarked.

The three walked down the bridge, the roots bending as they stepped upon them, creaking a little, making the walking uncomfortable. At times, some roots had fallen out of their knots, leaving gaps along the pathway, but most were simply hopped over, and all three did so without any problem.

Later, one gap was two feet across, the wizard and lass jumping over it easily, but the Cathedral Knight was nervous. To make up for his lack of agility, the Cathedral Knight dropped his shield over the gap, and walked across it, using his shield as a makeshift bridge. Overall, the shield worked very well as a short bridge. He grabbed it by the rim, slid it towards himself, and picked it up, and the exploration continued.

"Watch out!" The lass exclaimed, brandishing her great sword and swinging it to and fro at the roots.

A dozen or more of the larger roots growing or hanging down the walls nearby came to life, creaking and cracking, then slithering through the air and whipping or jabbing at the three characters. The sorcerer retaliated by casting pyromancy, to burn away the roots. The lass chopped with her great sword, chipping the roots bit by bit. The Cathedral Knight slung his greatshield over his shoulder, for it had a long chain attached to its top and bottom on the backside, and unsheathed one of his Cleric Candlesticks, gripping it in his left hand, and he used it to shoot rather large spheres of fire that exploded on impact, igniting and damaging the attacking roots. The sorcerer also chopped with his svardstav, as the roots moved aggressively and most continued moving forwards.

One root wrapped around the Cathedral Knight's greave, but he was too heavy to be pulled off his feet. He bent over and rapidly slashed his Cleric Candlestick while summoning combustion through it, and destroyed the root. He noticed that more roots were moving, lunging at him, their tips bouncing off his armour, but one stuck into the eye slits of his helm. He turned while swinging his flaming Cleric Candlestick to cut through the root trying to dig into his face.

The sorcerer, while casting pyromancy and swinging his svardstav around in one hand, was grabbed by a root, which entwined around his left forearm, preventing him from aiming his pyromancy. He pulled his left arm back, but the root was quite strong, and pulled him towards the wall, then lifted him. The lass noticed and jumped, swinging her great sword midair and cutting through the root lifting the old black wizard. The two then jumped away from the wall and swung their bladed weapons at the incoming roots.

"Keep moving, there are too many roots." The Cathedral Knight remarked, so the three walked on while fending off the roots however they could.

The Cathedral Knight used a mix of Pyromancy and Force miracles to fend off the roots behind the group while walking backwards along with the knight and wizard, his greatmace also knocking them aside, but being an edgeless weapon, did little other than bounce the roots about. He could simply unsheathe his Cathedral Knight Greatsword, but he would have to drop his greatmace or sheath his candlestick to do so. He decided to continue using fire and force, sometimes kicking the roots as well. In front of him, the lass and sorcerer continued their edged hacking, chipping away at the roots.

Not much really happened, but for the next few minutes, the three fought the roots while walking. The roots sometimes managed to grab their arm or leg, but working together, they managed to always free themselves. The bridge of intertwining roots they walked upon was constantly shaking, as if the roots were trying to free themselves, but the knots were too strong.

"They better not untie themselves." The wizard remarked, the three adventurers then looking down, smelling the rising fumes, smoke and heat below.

"If I fall into the lava, I'll kill this tree." The Cathedral Knight threatened.

A while later, thicker roots soon came, which were so big they could not be chopped through or burned away easily. One thick root coiled around the lass's greave, lifted her up, and slammed her down against the bridge of intertwining roots. The wizard and Cathedral Knight immediately summoned pyromancy to burn through the thick root, but that did not happen, and the root arched over the bridge to hang down, and uncoiled itself, to drop the lass down.

She immediately tossed her great sword onto the bridge and then grabbed the root with both hands, sliding down it, but holding on. Her armour was so heavy that she had difficulty climbing back up, but managed nonetheless. The Cathedral Knight helped her out by sheathing his candlestick and then grabbing the root, pulling it up, and so pulled the lass up. Several roots lassoed over the Cathedral Knight's helm, intending to drag him off his feet, but he was quite the tower of iron, and unmoved by the woody things.

The sorcerer chopped through a few roots in one swing and looked upon the walls, seeing so many roots slithering down the walls that they covered the stone. He cast a Soul Greatsword out his svardstav across the roots, cutting across most of them, and then stuck his polearm forth, summoning a barrage of soul spears into the ever more roots going at him. A few managed to whip or stab into his body, but he writhed backwards, feeling the roots pluck out of him.

A rather huge root suddenly crashed down from above, like a lightning bolt of wood, breaking into the bridge behind the Cathedral Knight. The huge root curled underneath the roots and ripped through them, breaking many but also freeing them from their knotty situation. Freed, the severed roots (excluding the ends ripped off) lashed out at the Cathedral Knight, who replied by ushering the miracle of Force and knocked them back. He then jerked his body about until freed from the roots that already grabbed him, and unsheathing his other Cleric Candlestick, began casting fire out of it.

The lass, who had picked up her great sword, got up and continued fighting, but she and the wizard were walking backwards along the bridge while chipping away at the roots trying to attack them. The Cathedral Knight turned around and ran down the bridge, but the huge root slammed into him, smashing him through the bridge.

The Cathedral Knight felt himself fall through the assortment of roots, dropping his greatmace and candlestick while falling, but now that both hands were free, he grabbed at the roots, gripping them, and slid down them. His weight caused the roots he grabbed to turn and swing, and so he swung across fumes and smoke.

Fortunately, he managed to swing twenty feet or so through the air, towards another but smaller bridge, consisting of intertwining roots, which was farther away from the wall, and somewhat leading towards the centre of the volcano. Upon letting go of the root and then landing on the smaller bridge, he almost fell off, regaining balance with some mumbling. Unsheathing his greatsword, and wielding it with both hands, he immediately began hacking at the roots slithering after him, and chopped through them easily.

"Hey!" The lass screamed from above, wondering what happened to the big knight, so he opened his visor and put one hand beside his mouth.

"I am alright! I swung to another bridge; we will just have to go separate paths now! Keep moving, watch out for that giant root!" The Cathedral Knight bellowed back; he looked around for a moment, then ran down the smaller bridge, feeling the roots he ran upon shaking, and the fuming heat made him sweat constantly.

The farther he ran down the bridge, the fewer roots went after him, probably avoiding the intense heat. The big knight stopped and spun around, hacking apart the few roots at him, and then looked up, seeing the sorcerer and the young woman running along the main bridge, cutting at the roots as they went. The huge root lifted, curling itself inwards, and then raised, intending to slam upon the two humans.

"Look out!" The Cathedral Knight screamed as the huge root came crashing down, creaking so loudly it echoed, breaking the bridge where the two ran, and so both fell down the bridge.

While feeling rising heat and smoke flow through his robes and skin, the sorcerer cast magic while falling, soul arrows and pyromancies launching from him. The lass simply writhed as she fell, armour clinking, she wondering where she would land. She landed hard against an extremely big root that happened to be sticking out the wall horizontally, but the sorcerer fell passed that and continued falling (and shooting magic).

The lass recovered, opening her visor and kneeling over the side of the giant root, to see what happened to the wizard. To her surprise, the sorcerer reappeared; Spirry had caught the wizard with his talons by the shoulders, and so flying up, carried the old man, and safely dropped him onto the root. In his hands, the devil carried a greatmace; he must have caught it when the Cathedral Knight dropped it while falling earlier.

Hovering just before the root, bleeding constantly as always, the rising heat and smoke flowing upwards around him and making him look quite hellish, the eyeless devil titled his head, and swung the greatmace over his shoulder.

"I take it none of you can last long without me?" The devil asked as his flapping wings caused blood to spatter everywhere, and so the sorcerer wiped his eyes.

"Oh pshh, shut up." The lass remarked lightly with some humour, the flicking blood tinging against her armour.

"Down below, I saw a few dozen of those skeletal beings, fighting their way through the roots. If these Darkwraiths are attracted to evil souls, my other half will be down below, but I did not see him anywhere." Spirry remarked, and then they heard the huge root move sluggishly, too big to move consistently.

"I really hope we don't have to stand on any more freakin' moving roots." The sorcerer complained.

"Hm? Yeah, there are chunks of the broken bridge down-" Spirry said, but was interrupted when a few dozen roots flopped down and whipped at he and the two Undead, the roots creaking and cracking as they moved.

The devil began chewing on the roots that swung into his face, and he also grabbed and twisted them around while hovering side to side, to try and break them. Breathing fire helped, too. The lass and sorcerer, unsurprisingly, swung their edged weapon into the incoming roots. With nowhere to go, the two Undead fought while walking along the gigantic root they were on, which gradually arched towards the centre of the volcano. Off they went, the wizard casting some soul and fire magic as he usually did, the devil flying away until the roots that grabbed him overextended and then snapped, the torn ends falling down.

Meanwhile, up above, the Cathedral Knight reached a spot where the bridge went over a platform; the rest lead to the walls covered with aggressive roots, so he had no reason to go anywhere near the walls. He jumped down to the platform below, and crashed into it. His sabatons broke into the intertwining roots, so he stepped out the holes his landing made and looked around.

The Cathedral Knight noticed that there were immensely larger roots this far down, having grown through the walls long ago and twisting and turning about, smoke and heat rising out in-between them. The platform was nearby a few of such colossal roots, which swayed very slowly, so he chose randomly and jogged down one of them, armour shuffling and clinking.

Eventually, the Cathedral Knight reached the end of the giant root, which curled downward so acutely he could not walk any farther less risk fall down. At the opposite direction, the lass and sorcerer appeared, running through the smoke and fumes, reaching the end of their giant root. Nearby them was a giant root spiralling downwards, which the lass and wizard could jump onto, but it was too far away from the Cathedral Knight for he to jump to it. Spirry swooped from above, hovering in the centre of everyone where no roots met. The Cathedral Knight noticed the devil holding his greatmace.

"Oh? Ha hah! You caught my mace when I dropped it!" The Cathedral Knight exclaimed.

"Yeah, after it hit me on the back of my head. I hope you won't mind me carrying it around for a while, I need a weapon myself." Spirry remarked, the Cathedral Knight nodding.

Rising from the smoke and fuming heat, giant tapering roots from several inches to a few feet across appeared, all of them red-hot, covered with cinders, spaced apart from one another but numbering in the hundreds, some of these immense roots coiling around other roots. The cindered roots creaked and flamed as they moved, writhing in the air as if the arms of a giant octopus made of burning wood.

To make things worse, exhaling sounds were heard, and several Darkwraiths dropped from above, landing on the giant roots the Cathedral Knight and the two Undead stood on, landing like skeletal lithe cats. Several more swung on roots, swinging across smoke and landing on the roots, and at that, twenty Darkwraiths in total had appeared, ten landing on either giant root. The Darkwraiths opened their mouths, jawbones cracking as if they were trying to speak, but instead hissed forth darkness angrily, then they all charged at the same time beneath arching cindered roots.


	15. Exegesis - Roots

**Exegesis, part 9**

 **Roots**

"They look happy to see us." The lass remarked, and spread her arms out to welcome the evil beings.

The sorcerer turned around to face the incoming enemies, igniting his pyromancy flame in his hand, facing the ten Darkwraiths on this root. The lass brandished her great sword and charged into the incoming mass of dark skeletal beings, not waiting for the old man. She chopped through a few wiggly and flaming roots as well.

"Heads up!" the wizard shouted, who then threw a fire orb over the knight, and it exploded in front of her amongst the Darkwraiths.

Immediately, she swung her sword sideways, striking across several legs of the Darkwraiths, but at the same time, they swung their swords at her, hissing. She swung her great sword side to side, striking into the swords, magical shields, gauntlets and vambraces repeatedly, while also receiving blades across her armour and arms, hearing the Dark Swords clinking against her own great sword, and feeling the shaking in her hands and the hilt.

One Darkwraith managed to parry the great sword and then grab the lass by the front of her visor with his left hand, using the arcane power of the Dark Hand to suck the life out of her, and as he pushed her down, received a great and heavy soul arrow to the head and was knocked over. The nine other Darkwraiths simply charged on, forming shields with their free hands, some trampling over the lass as she tried to regain herself, but one of them held her down by using the Dark Hand's life-draining magic.

The huge roots creaked, some burning away, slowly moving into action, but did nothing yet. Several smaller roots wriggled through the air, some normal others red-hit and burning, and whipped at the Darkwraiths, and so they had to fight those things as well, but easily chopped through them.

The wizard thrust his svardstav forth, releasing a powerful shockwave of soul magic in front of him, an eruption of blueness that knocked five Darkwraiths over, but none of them fell off the root. The wizard then hacked away several flaming roots with his polearm while casting pyromancy, but the four Darkwraiths still on their feet charged the wizard. Suddenly, Spirry dove across the four charging Darkwraiths, tackling into them as he flew, using his mass to knock the four down. He hovered, wings flapping wildly and spattering blood everywhere, realigning himself and swinging down his Cathedral Knight Greatmace upon a Darkwraith picking himself up, the giant mass of solid iron striking the skull and shattering it down to the shoulders; splinters of skull flew everywhere.

Remaining hovering, the devil began swinging his greatmace round and round, twirling midair, and struck several Darkwraiths repeatedly, keeping some down; several larger flaming roots writhed through the air towards the devil but seemed to hesitate. A few Darkwraiths, who were knocked down earlier by the wizard's magic, managed to get up and leapt over their knocked-back companions fighting Spirry, swinging their swords midair at the devil, slicing him open, but the winged devil continued swinging the greatmace with reckless abandon, unaffected by fatigue. His movement also flicked blood everywhere, spattering upon the Darkwraiths' armour.

Spirry was about to fly upwards, but one of the huge fiery roots slammed down suddenly, smashing him and several Darkwraiths down, cinders bursting everywhere, and then it slowly arose. Spirry got up quickly, his blood leaking everywhere, and jumped upon the Darkwraiths the huge root knocked down, feeling his wings and horns sliding across the underside of it, and then he began biting into the necks of the Darkwraiths, who in turn bashed the pommels of their swords back at him while grabbing him with their Dark Hand. Although not immune to the effects of life-draining, the devil seemed to be quite resistant to it, as he made no reaction to the Dark Hands.

Meanwhile, at the other root, the Cathedral Knight had unslung his great shield from his back, gripping his greatsword in his right hand and shield in his left.

"Ten against one? Very well, I need a challenge." The knight remarked, and he raised his greatsword and summoned Perseverance, and then he charged the incoming ten Darkwraiths, shield used like a battering ram, several blades striking it, and at the same time he murmuring the miracle of Force to knock down several Darkwraiths.

One Darkwraith charged and leapt at the knight; he positioned his shield so that it was slanted, so that once the Darkwraith full upon the front of the shield, the knight lifted his shield and up and over, and so threw the Darkwraith away, who landed on his side. The Cathedral Knight then faced the enemies and unleashed another Force miracle, knocking them back just as they picked themselves up.

Immediately, the big knight jumped upon two Darkwraiths, stomping upon them, the two Darkwraiths beneath his sabatons uselessly smacking their swords against him, and then he began bashing the boss of his shield and swinging his greatsword, which had such a gigantically broad blade and so heavy it knocked aside blocks and magic shields. The Cathedral Knight and Darkwraiths exchanged blows, and he was soon surrounded, attack on all sides, so he summoned another force to blast out from himself, but the Darkwraiths had formed magical shields to block some of the miracle's power, and then bashed with their magical shields and pommels, but others swung their blades into the knight's helm, greaves and gauntlets when able.

Pulling his shield back to block every attack to his left, the Cathedral Knight bent his knees and thrust his sword into a Darkwraith just as the Darkwraith lunged his sword, Dark Sword thrusting into the visor of the greathelm and nearly lifting it, whereas the Cathedral sword rammed into the Darkwraith's rib cage-armour and skewered into him, the skeleton leaning over the giant blade.

Feeling attacks into his backside, the Cathedral Knight push-kicked the Darkwraith off his blade and then spun around, swinging it lowly across several legs of a few Darkwraiths, and knocked them down, one after the other, as the giant sword passed across their legs with such force it tripped them. This created a second's pause in the fighting, the Darkwraiths looking at him, grinding their teeth, and then twenty roots whipped at them, a few grasping their limbs, so they chopped them up. Several roots attacked the knight as well, but he had no problem hacking them apart, still feeling the two Darkwraiths underfoot squirming, flapping their swords against him hopelessly, so he started stomping down upon their skulls to keep them down.

The fight betwixt the Cathedral Knight and the Darkwraiths commenced after the suspended roots were dealt with, both sides swinging their swords, bashing with their shields, push-kicking, and sometimes headbutting. One Darkwraith jumped upon the great shield, holding it down with his free hand while hitting the knight's helm, and the extra weight kept the shield down. Another Darkwraith moved in and grabbed the knight's sword, leaving him helpless, and then the Darkwraiths began using him as target practise, their Dark Swords sliding along his armour and sparking, pommels and magical shields bashing into him as well.

The Cathedral knight cast Force and knocked down most of his attackers, but the Darkwraith who held his shield down, being behind it, withstood the forceful miracle, and then, letting go of the shield, managed to grab the knight's visor, using the Dark Hand to drain life. The huge knight resisted the affects but was debilitated by it, and the many other foes swarmed him and attacked him repeatedly, keeping him busy for now.

"I think you need more men to take me down." the Cathedral Knight remarked, feeling blow after blow from the Darkwraiths, but they failed to take him down.

At the other side, the lass managed to get up by this time, kicking away the Darkwraith's arm, seeing that most Darkwraiths, greatly attracted to the devil's soul, were focused on him, but most were unable to pass his greatmace, feeling blow after blow by that giant weapon. She sat up, her foe lunging back at her with his Dark Hand, so she raised her great sword and presented the point, scraping against the Darkwraith's breastplate and so keeping him back, his arm waving across the lass's head and missing her.

She quickly got up, the Darkwraith pushing aside her great sword and going for an upward swing, so she did likewise, intercepting the Dark Sword and then headbutting the Darkwraith in the skull. She then gripped her sword by the blade and handle, and then quickly bashed the middle of her blade into the Darkwraith's skull, staggering him, and then swinging the pommel across the skeleton's skull. She charged forth, but the Darkwraith push-kicked her back and then slashed across her helm. She retaliated by thrusting her great sword clean straight through the wraith's neck bone, shattering it, and then she wrenched her sword, breaking the spinal cord and the head head off, body falling over.

During Spirry's wild swings, the sorcerer was casting pyromancy and magic at the Darkwraiths, and four of them managed to pass the devil and his giant mace, and charged the sorcerer, who released a torrent of flowing magic through his staff, and then formed a torrent of fire out his left hand, producing two continuous streams of magic. The four Darkwraiths stuck their magical shields forth and continued their charge, but were knocked back by a forceful shockwave. The sorcerer and his magic kept the four Darkwraiths at bay, but they kept trying to reach him, and would be busy doing just that, using the length of his polearm to stab and swing while constantly casting magic.

The lass jumped into action, attacking the backs of the Darkwraiths occupied with the devil, bashing with her pommel and cross-guard and tip of her sword repeatedly, while also kicking, kneeing, and headbutting. Three Darkwraiths spun around after feeling their skulls being hit, and then they push-kicked her at the same time, then swung their swords downwards into her helm at the same time, and knocked her down. While on her back, the knight swung her sword side to side, but a Darkwraith mounted her, summoned his Dark Hand to grasp her visor and suck the life out of her, and then began bashing her helmet with the pommel of his Dark Sword at the same time.

The devil got tired and so landed atop a Darkwraith, pining him down. Instantly, several of the skeletal beings swung their swords in upward cuts, slicing into his hands, arms and abdomen, he crudely using the head of his greatmace as a shield, and the began swinging the greatmace powerfully lowly, side to side, smashing into the greaves of the Darkwraiths to break their legs, and knocked down several while exhaling fire at them.

Nearby, the lass struggled, kicking and writhing as the Darkwraith atop her drained her life with his Dark Hand, and she was unable to fight back against her attacker very well. She dropped her great sword and unsheathed her dagger, bashing the pommel repeatedly into the Darkwraith's skull, but he did likewise. Having the advantage of being atop the knight, using his Dark Hand powers, and pommel-bashing, the lass was yet again in a great disadvantage.

"Get off of me you fucking prick!" The lass screeched angrily, and then one of the huge flaming roots slammed down in this spot, ashes and embers fluttering everywhere, the huge root crushing the Darkwraith.

The lass, being protected by solid armour and thus serving as a metal shell, absorbed most impact and saved her life. As the giant root lifted itself, she took the advantage and rolled atop her former foe, grabbing her great sword by blade and handle, ramming the sword tip into the spinal cord (at the neck) and wrenching it around to and fro, the Darkwraith grabbing the blade with his Dark Hand and hitting the knight with his Dark Sword. The lass, after a brief struggle, twisted her sword, destroying the spinal cord, detaching it from the skull, beheading the being and killing it. She grabbed the Dark Sword in her left hand, stood up, and spun around, throwing the Dark Sword at the other Darkwraiths fighting the devil, slapping against a backplate, and then charged at them.

Spirry swung his greatmace downward overhead, slamming into a Darkwraith with such force it fell flat on its back. While feeling blades cutting him up everywhere, blood flicking everywhere, Spirry exhaled fiercely, flames bursting out his mouth, and then he slid his greatmace forwards, it sliding over the Darkwraith it had struck down and then going in-between another Darkwraith's legs; Spirry rammed his shoulder into that Darkwraith whilst lifting up the greatmace, flipping the Darkwraith over himself.

The movement caused Spirry to turn, feeling Dark Swords dancing over his wings and backside, and then he spun around, swinging his greatmace across the arms of several Darkwraiths, knocking aside their swords and magical shields. Behind this action, the sorcerer continued casting magic and jabbing his svardstav, as well as summoning Soul Greatswords, and kept his four foes at bay.

The lass reached the fight, jumping upon a few Darkwraiths and her weight brought them down. Spirry immediately swung his greatmace down upon a fallen Darkwraith's skull that was right beside the lass's head, she seeing through the eye slits of her helm as the huge mace came crashing down, shattering the Darkwraith's head, only its hair left on the root. Spirry then swung his greatmace in one hand sideways, hitting a few Darkwraiths, but despite their elegant bodily shape, they were quite firm on their feet. The devil grabbed the lass by the arm and threw her to her feet while being butchered alive, hearing her exhale.

The Darkwraiths perhaps did not realize that it was futile to fight the devil, for no matter how many times they sliced and diced him, Dark Swords reaching bone and tendons, Spirry made no reaction, and his wounds regrew, as if gluing themselves back together. Yet, he never regenerated beyond a skinless form.

The chevaleresse fought on in her usual manner, great sword crossing paths with Dark Swords and magical shields, but was soon overwhelmed by the many opponents, who surrounded her and began kneeing her, pommel-striking, and shield-bashing into her armour to daze her. Close-up, she was unable to use her great sword, but could still headbutt, knee strike and punch.

"Motherfuckers..." she cursed, and then the Darkwraiths started attacking her all with the greater fervour.

Irritated that he was constantly being swarmed, Spirry summoned his own form of pyromancy, which was unlike this world's. The fire came from within him, flowing through his veins and organs, bursting out his mouth, eye sockets and nostrils, black smoke fuming out as well; he was now constantly flaming, fire streaming through his veins.

A Darkwraith thrust his Dark Hand onto the devil's face, to suck the life out of him, but the devil just bit over the Dark Wraith's hand and pulled his head back, pulling the gauntlet off, and still feeling the blades cutting into him, dropped his greatmace, went on all fours, and began grappling his arms around the legs of the Darkwraiths, one by one, pulling each set of legs together and pulling on them, to trip the Darkwraith. He then began jumping around, pawing, goring with his horns, and flailing himself to and fro, not doing much damaged, but the movement caused the Darkwraiths to repeatedly fall over. The presence of occasional roots lashing out or trying to grapple was a little annoying, but the Darkwraiths cut through them.

Having created space from his wild unrestrained regression, the devil grabbed one Darkwraith around the waist, picked him up, and then ran away, trampling over a few Darkwraiths, and then jumped off the root. He let go of the Darkwraith, flapping his wings, seeing the Darkwraith plummet, and soon disappear into the rising smoke and fumes. The devil gained altitude and dove back towards the root, seeing several larger ones curling towards it. He ignored them, and then folded his wings, diving into the Darkwraiths ganging up on the lass, impact knocking a few of them down.

The devil then inhaled powerfully, flames brightening up within his blazing body, and he exhaled a torrent of fire upon the Darkwraiths while turning in a circle, but blood also gushed out of his mouth. The fire was mixed with boiling blood, which seemed to act as tar, mixed with some sort of flammable bile. The result was a sticky mess that splat onto and burned the Darkwraiths, the twigs in their armour and their hair igniting. Being skeletal, they did not feel pain, or so it seemed; they quickly cut through several roots trying to entwine them.

While on fire, the Darkwraiths sliced the devil open everywhere. The lass rolled into the legs of the Darkwraiths, and Spirry began attacking their legs again, to trip them or even flip them over himself, but also was goring upwards with his horns, like a ram, which took the Darkwraiths off their feet. Their flaming armour would soon extinguish.

Meanwhile, the sorcerer's magic had burned his foes' armour into a blue state, so much magic hitting them that it was now sticking over them! The wizard repeatedly jabbed his polearm while shooting Soul Arrows, and casting Pyromancy out his left hand, at all times. The Darkwraiths soon reached him, cutting into his robes, so he swung his polearm sideways with incredible speed, beheading one Darkwraith, and as the polearm swung, he rammed it into the eye socket of another Darkwraith, casting a shockwave out his svardstav and into the wraith's skull, causing it to explode just as this Darkwraith was about to thrust his sword into the wizard.

A Darkwraith utilized his Dark Hand, whispering to it, and grabbed the back of the wizard's head, sucking the life out of him. The sorcerer, being an old man, quickly lost strength and fell to his knees. The other Darkwraith circled to his front and lunged his Dark Sword into the wizard's chest, then grabbed his face with his own Dark Hand, and thus the two Dark Hands drained his life. Just as it all seemed to end, three big roots whipped along various parts of this giant root, which fortunately struck the two Darkwraiths down, and then continued to knock all the other Darkwraiths on this giant root, the devil, and the lass. One of these big roots continued onto the next huge root, and struck into the Cathedral Knight as he wrestled about his many foes but refused to fall, knocking them all down.

Spirry went on all fours and began crawling around while swiping his arms to and fro, goring with his horns, whipping his tail, and lashing out with his wings, attacking multiple Darkwraiths as they tried to pick themselves up. They replied by raising their swords while sitting up to cut at the things attack them, the lass going onto her knees and swinging her great sword sideways, the blade cracking through a Darkwraith's teeth and then flicking off the top half of his skull. The three remaining Darkwraiths now had less of an advantage.

Spirry rampaged forth, trampling over two Darkwraiths and then galloping down down the giant root, seeing that the sorcerer had a blade through his chest and had some difficulties against his two foes, who had put their Dark Hands onto his head and continue draining his life. The sorcerer saw the rampaging devil while falling down from the Dark Hands; both Darkwraiths turned their heads and saw Spirry just as he tackled into both of them.

The devil grabbed one Darkwraith around the armour, ran off to the side, and jumped off the root, taking flight, but dropped the Darkwraith, who soon disappeared through the fumes and smoke. Wings flapping, body blazing and bleeding, Spirry flew forth and dove towards the three Darkwraiths fighting the lass, but a big root suddenly curled into him, the tapering tip in the way and so he impaled himself into the root.

"Aw! What the fuck!" The devil exclaimed, wondering what happened, writhing on the tip of the root as it curled through the air. His body stopped blazing at this moment, so that he could recover. Realizing he was rather stuck, without recourse, Spirry let his limbs and wings go limp, hanging there like a disappointed rag doll.

The sorcerer pulled the Dark Sword out of himself and got up as if nothing had happened, the Darkwraith who had fallen from the devil's diving attack getting up as well, but the wizard ran away from him. He ushered a healing Miracle unto himself while running, and then, gripping his svardstav in both hands, Pyromancy hand swirly flames along the hilt, rammed the polearm into one of the Darkwraith's skull, the blade passing clean through it and then stabbing into another Darkwraith's skull.

"Oh, waw." the lass complimented.

The sorcerer summoned a Soul Arrow through his staff which flew and hit the second Darkwraith he stabbed point-blank, and staggered him. The lass took this advantage to spin around, feeling a Dark Sword glance off her backplate, and she tackled into the Darkwraith staggered by the sorcerer's magic , knocking him down.

The wizard pulled his svardstav out the skull it had penetrated while he also kicked the wraith forwards, that Darkwraith falling onto both knees weakly but still alive, and then the wizard spun around, for the Darkwraith he had fled from was now charging him, magical shield raised forth. The wizard swung his polearm to cut through a root trying to slap him, and then a huge flaming root slammed in front of him, embers fluttering everywhere, the huge root crushing the charging Darkwraith with such force that the wizard's legs shook, and then the root moved along and knocked him over.

"Look out!" the sorcerer shouted after being knocked over, then kicking away at several smaller roots trying to entangle his legs.

The lass skipped away from the few Darkwraiths and spun around, seeing this cindered giant root coming at her. She raised her arms, feeling a Darkwraith push-kick her in the back of the helm, which took her down, and then the huge root flowed over the Darkwraiths while curving, and so dragged them off the giant root, and down they fell with it.

The knight picked herself up and looked around, seeing the last remaining Darkwraith charging her, but the sorcerer grabbed his talisman with flaming hand and cast the Force miracle out himself, which mixed with the Pyromancy and unleashed a burst of fire and force. The Darkwraith was blown back but landed on his feet, hissing briefly, summoning a magic shield, and then the lass ran to him and drop-kicked him in the side, causing him to stagger down the curvature of the root and he slid down it, sudden fall causing him to drop his Dark Sword. The Darkwraith clung to the root, gauntlets scraping along the bark, and he simply climbed back up, and was greeted with a stake of soul magic to the skull, hitting him with such force he flew backwards off the root and down he fell.

Immediately, the sorcerer and knight ran down the root until they reached the farthest section possible, the rest curling downward. Across the fumes they saw the Cathedral Knight, fighting away his ten Darkwraiths as they attacked him relentlessly with blades, pommels, magical shields, and Dark Hands. The huge knight summoned the Force miracle to blow them away, and then would attack them with Cathedral Knight greatshield and greatsword, but would immediately be swarmed and overwhelmed by the Darkwraiths, who were trying to push him off the root (as well as chop apart the roots coming at them).

"Where's the buzzard?" the sorcerer asked, looking around, and then, conveniently, the giant root Spirry flew into it curled by in the air, the devil wriggling on the end of it, trying to free himself, but he was just writhing deeper up the root! The chevaleresse opened her visor, face sweating like crazy, and leaned her great sword over her pauldron.

"What the fuck are you doing? Push yourself away from it!" the lass yelled at Spirry, who then considered that, and so pushed himself away, and slowly freed himself. Plucking himself off the tip of the root, Spirry fell down, outstretching his wings as he disappeared into the smog and heat below.

The sorcerer raised his svardstav and cast a big Soul Arrow, which flew across the fumes and hit a Darkwraith. Summoning more projectiles of Soul Magic and Pyromancy, the wizard unleashed a barrage of Soul Arrows and fireballs upon the Darkwraiths, but a few magical things hit the Cathedral Knight.

"Goddammit! Watch where you cast those things!" The huge knight roared as a fireball lodged into his fireball and remained burning there for a second before exploding.

Several Darkwraiths spun around to see where the projectiles were coming from, but they had no way to cross the gap between the giant roots; they were just targets for the sorcerer now. As smoke and fumes arose from the depths of the volcano, the devil flew upwards, appearing, body bleeding and smoking. He looked around, obviously noticing the Cathedral Knights struggling, the constant attacks disrupting his miracles and focus, but he still managed to push, knee strike, headbutt, shield-bash and stomp.

Spirry wasted no time and writhed, flying forwards, and then a giant flaming root swatted him from above, hitting him with enough force to cause cinders to rain as the devil fell down. The knight and wizard the realized that perhaps a dozen huge roots are arose from the depths, all orange-hot and looking like tentacles of bright lava.

At the same time, lowering from above, a giant tree appeared, as if ti had leaned top-first down into the volcano! The tree was a burr oak, fifty feet wide and three hundred feet long, the same tree that was described long ago. The burr oak seemed to have its bark formed into the shapes of muscles and tendons, as if lengths of tissue were trying to push out from within the bark, but only formed engravings and ridges from within. The tree's branches stuck out to the sides, pushing against the walls of the volcano, crawling down it, causing so much rumbling and creaking the entire volcano was shaking. The interior of the volcano cracked here and there, dust and debris falling, and many roots were slithering down the walls as well.

As the giant oak's top bent backwards more and more, creaking like crazy, it gradually revealed a large oval hole perhaps ten feet wide, with a rim consisting of a broad ridge of bark. This was no ordinary oak tree, but a Golem Giant from ages ago, now something in-between Golem and tree, but still more tree than Golem. This hole seemed to be gazing down upon the lass and the knight, and then it titled backwards acutely, letting off a powerful groan that shook the volcano. At least twenty huge tapering roots curled upwards from below, flaming and cindered, up to several feet wide, ending in pointy tips, dripping with lava and embers.

"Oh great, now we're fighting plants..." the lass remarked, looking at the burning roots.

"...That are on fire." the wizard finished.

The rising roots rather slowly grabbed onto the gigantic roots everyone stood upon, and shook them. The Cathedral Knight and the Darkwraiths attacking him wobbled as their root shook, and then it was pulled down, slanting; a few dozen smaller roots wriggled along the gigantic root but were promptly cut apart by some of the Darkwraiths. The tree roared, crawling down the volcano with greater vigour, and so causing more shaking, and its roots angrily tightened around the larger roots they had gripped, trying to destroy them.

The gigantic root the Cathedral Knight stood on tilted more and more, until he started to lose balance, and fell over, rolling down the curvature of the root, the Darkwraiths also soon unbalanced and falling, sliding, or rolling down. Within seconds, the Cathedral Knight and the Darkwraiths went down far enough to start falling though the air, and down they fell, flailing their limbs. The lass and the wizard's root was then snapped in half, the front half breaking off and so falling, its two occupants falling with it, and soon, the two Undead plummeted down the hot fumes.


	16. Exegesis - Volcano

**Exegesis, part 10**

 **Volcano**

The inside of the volcano churned its soup of molten rock, and shook every once in a while. The Cathedral Knight kept holding onto his shield and sword, the Darkwraiths holding onto their swords as well as they all fell. While falling, the Cathedral Knight gradually became face-down, heat and fumes flowing through his armour, and he felt like he was being slowly cooked. Down below, he saw the bottom of the volcano, where lava bubbled.

"Aw, fuck." the big knight cursed placidly, overhearing the Darkwraiths plopping into the lava or thudding against the ruins.

Dotting along the lava were various stone ruins, the remains of the giant bridge and a few towers, that had been melting in the lava for so long. The Cathedral Knight seemed to be falling downwards to a fallen pillar, so he focused entirely on his Force miracle, but then realized he was plummeting straight for the molten rock instead! Before crashing into the lava, he released Force underneath himself downwards only, the force bouncing back and going upwards, helping break his fall, as well as splash some lava outward. He landed with a crash nonetheless, sinking into the lava up to the knees, his Force miracle breaking his enough to prevent his legs breaking.

Dazed and hurt, the huge knight took a few steps, already his legs and skirt engulfed in flame, and then seeing several Darkwraiths literally running across the lava as they slightly sank in it, and all leg harnesses becoming orange.

"Well, I think this is the best reason to being Undead..." the Cathedral Knight remarked as he burst to flames; being Undead, and so unable to feel most pain, definitely had its advantages.

Suddenly, he looked up, seeing a random knight preform a plunging attack upon a charging Darkwraith, nailing him in the head while both knees landed atop either shoulder, and smashing him into the lava. The lass had fallen upon her targeted Darkwraith, all his bones and armour cracking underneath her plunge as well as from the heat of the lava, and all this helped break the lass's fall, sort of.

Meanwhile, up above, the sorcerer, using his Pyromancy hand, conjured Iron Flesh and Flash Sweat, becoming as hard as metal sweating profusely, and then cast Fall Control, and upon landing, did not shatter and die; even his Iron Flesh spell affected his clothes, preventing them from burning away.

The Cathedral Knight and the Iron Fleshed sorcerer trudged through the lava, movement splashing the molten stone around, and they running to the nearest chunk of ruins, seeing huge tapering roots slamming or stabbing down all around them, splashing more lava all over the place, some of which slapped into a few Darkwraiths and burned them (obviously). The lass resorted to repeatedly rolling forwards, over and over again, rolling along the lava, quite an impressive display of acrobatics.

"Oh shit! Oh shit! Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!" the lass cursed as she rolled over and over again like tumbleweed, armour flicking bits of lava here and there, but it takes more than lava to stop an Undead.

The big knight leapt upon a chunk of ruins, an arch on its side, his two friends doing likewise, the lass also rolling over a root that swung at her legs. The companions overheard the Darkwraiths behind them charging through the lava, blazing, hissing and smoking. The three companions spun around, the sorcerer immediately casting Soul magic and pyromancy, and the two knights getting ready, skipping a little due to the extreme heat in their sabatons and greaves, which were fuming.

The Darkwraiths were all on fire, a few struck by tapering roots that stuck them into the lava, the Cathedral Knight having a bad feeling and spun around, swinging his mighty great sword and chopping through a foot-thick root that would have smacked someone down for sure. The sorcerer was then hit in the back of the head by a root, but being Iron Fleshed, made no reaction. The Cathedral Knight bashed his shield into a charging Darkwraith, the chevaleresse push-kicking another wraith's magic shield aside then slashing her great sword down into the Darkraith's mask or skull, splitting it asunder.

The Darkwraiths soon exchanged blows with their foes, some running around and going onto the arch to attack the sides, a few chopping through roots trying to do them harm. The sorcerer, still being Iron Fleshed, withstood all attacks, but being a semi-solid mass of metallic flesh, he could not move with his feet very well, but he still cast magic and swung his svardstav without any problem, oddly enough. One Darkwraith lunges his Dark Hand forth, intending to grab the wizard's face, but he swung his svardstav upwards and struck the incoming Dark Hand aside, and then cast a furious blast of Soul magic forth into his foe.

The two knights fought on as they normally did, mixing sword attacks, push-kicks, headbutts, shoulder-bashing, and low kicks, while always receiving similar attacks from the Darkwraiths, a few who fought while standing in the lava! Although lava appeared liquid, being molten rock, lava was quite dense, and so objects even a few hundred pounds would not easily sink into it.

As the volcano shook strongly again, one Darkwrath summoned his Dark Hand, jumping over a Darkwraith the Cathedral Knight just knocked over with his shield, and managed to grab the big guy with the Dark Hand. Fortunately, the lass saw that coming, leaning over a Darkwraith who tackled into her and swinging her great sword into the Dark Hand lunging for the Cathedral Knight, knocking it down, and allowing the big man to swing his Cathedral Knight Greatsword into the Darkwraith and destroyed its skull. He then raised his shield to block a big flaming root that lunged at him, striking his shield with such force that cinders fluttered.

As the melee continued, the devil swooped down from above, swinging his greatmace across a few Darkwraiths' legs from behind, knocking them all down, and then the Cathedral Knight stomped upon them, trying to push-kick them into the lava, but they just grabbed his legs with their free hands. A few Dark Wraiths summoned magic shields and threw them at the devil, which hit him, but did little. The devil retaliated by puking blood upon the Darkwraiths, and then dove into them while holding his greatmace sideways, smashing the shaft and his entire body into them, knocking them down; the blood he puked upon them and the arch was slippery from the blood, causing them to slip in it, but the rumbling of the volcano also helped.

The devil, with lightning reflexes, knelt up and began brutally smashing his greatmace upon the fallen Darkwraiths, bursting their skulls asunder, a few other Darkwraiths cutting into him. His dark soul attracted the attention of all other Darkwraiths, who faced him and attacked him at the same time. Immediately, the sorcerer and two knights leaped upon the backs of the Darkwraiths, the Cathedral Knight's huge size mowing down a few and they fell into the lava. A few roots slammed upon them as well, a few other roots stabbing or slapping into the lava or ruins and doing nothing.

The lass held her great sword by handle and blade, bashing with the pommel, cross-guard and middle of her sword, while also trying to use her blade as a lever to wrench Darkwraiths off-balance. The black man was quite a powerful sorcerer, for his Soul Greatswords were being summoned up to a few times every second while he cast pyromancy and Soul Arrows, damaging the wraiths quickly.

The devil let go of his greatmace, feeling the weight of several Darkwraiths and their blades, their Dark Hands, their knee strikes, and their punches, clawing and biting, so he went into a crawling position and grappled at the legs, tripping and flipping Darkwraiths around while his friends attacked them.

By this time, the Cathedral Knight used a Force miracle to blow himself out the lava, the Darkwraiths he knocked over rather stuck in the lava, and unable to pick themselves up, became a mass of smouldering metal and bones. He trudged over them and ran back to the chunk of ruins before burning away himself.

The devil, the two knights, and the wizard did a good job fending off the Darkwraiths, the wizard's mighty use of sorcery and pyromancy doing much work, and they seemed to be within seconds of freeing the devil.

"Watch out!" the Cathedral Knight bellowed as a humongous root slammed down nearby, splashing lava outwards, the Undead shielding themselves when that happened, but the Darkwraiths ignored it and kept fucking up the devil.

Everything changed when the Golem-tree groaned so loudly the volcano shook, his many roots and branches thrashing everywhere. Everyone looked up, bark, ashes, cinders, and bits of wood fluttering down, and they saw the Golem-tree appear through the fume and smoke, his breath swirling through the hot fumes. At that, the giant tree began writhing downwards while roaring, whipping and flailing branches and roots, striking ruins and the walls of the volcano and splitting stone. The wooden and stony debris fell into the lava, burning in it. Since the giant tree was upside-down, some of its roots hung over the trunk, nearly looking like hair or spider's legs.

The Cathedral Knight raised his great shield, feeling roots and branches smashing into it, the lass and several Darkwraiths being knocked down by the potentially immense and flaming roots or branches. The Darkwraiths still standing, and the Cathedral Knight and the sorcerer, stopped fighting one another to swing their blades in the air, cutting through the damn wooden things flicking at them repeatedly.

"There's just no end to the branches and roots!" the wizard complained, sounding like a tower of iron in his Iron Fleshed form, slashing his svardstav into the roots coming at him.

"Keep fighting, eventually, it will lose enough branches to be forced to hold itself up with more, then it will eventually not have enough to hold itself up, and fall down into the lava. You both are doing good, keep working at it." the Cathedral knight encouraged, feeling blow after blow from those damn blazing branches and roots.

As the Golem-tree went downwards, the farther he went, the more branches thrashed furiously in all directions. Spirry (who did not retrieve his greatmace) jumped up, flapping his wings and flying towards the giant tree, but did not get far, and was swatted down by several branches, but continued flying, feeling the tapering wooden things cutting into his wings and cause streaks of blood to fly through the air, but he was, as always, leaking blood profusely anyways. He already heard the sorcerer casting fire and soul magic at the tree, the Cathedral Knight slinging his great shield behind his back and withdrawing his second Cleric's Candlestick, to also shoot fiery projectiles at the tree. Spirry inhaled deeply, hovering, and blasted fire out his mouth as powerfully as a dragon, his fiery breath and the pyromancy cast below all gradually put more and more of the giant tree on fire.

The Golem-tree's head was now perhaps thirty feet above the lava, his largest branches sticking into the walls and wrapping around the huge roots, to suspend himself, and now able to swing and lash his branches and roots accurately, and knocked down most Darkwraiths. The sorcerer's Iron Flesh worked a little, but soon even his Iron Fleshed state could not keep him on his feet. The Cathedral Knight put his candlestick away and gripped his great shield, blocking the tapering timbers while cutting with his great sword, the lass relying on dodging and rolling, sometimes accidentally rolling into the lava, however she managed that (not all that uncommon in Dark Souls).

The volcano was rumbling and shaking strongly again, causing the lava to wobble, and then the giant tree suddenly headbutted down upon the Cathedral Knight's shield, knocking him down, impact causing flames and cinders to burst outwards, and the Golem-tree groaning at him. The big knight replied by thrusting his great sword into the Golem's mouth, and then the lass jumped to it and slashed her sword across the Golem's head, causing it to rear back a bit, the sorcerer continuously casting sorcery and pyromancy at it, creating quite the display of red and blue.

The Golem-tree swung a branch sideways, hitting the sorcerer in the legs, breaking his Iron Flesh spell and knocking him down. The lass quickly ran forth and jumped, heaving her great sword down upon that branch and cutting a few inches into it, but did not sever it. Another root slapped across the lass's helm from behind, so she spun around, then got hit again in the back of the helm. She had a few seconds of bad luck, failing to parry or block attacking branches and roots, hit repeatedly everywhere, which pissed her off.

"Oh! For fuck's sake!" she screamed, swinging her great sword through the air from anger, and then was hit by a branch that knocked her down.

"Don't get mad, you will only make mistakes." the big knight remarked.

"Shut the fuck up!" the lass replied as she picked herself up, and then the giant tree groaned and tackled its head and shoulders upon the ruins, plunging itself into lava as well, knocking over everyone standing on it. Immediately, somehow, three Darkwraiths suddenly recovered and jumped upon the Golem-tree, grasping it with their left hands while chipping away at its bark.

The devil flew around and latched upon the Golem's head as it ascended from the lava, flaming and smoking, the hole tilting back as if surprised. Spirry then literally put his head into the Golem's mouth, and exhaled dragon's fire into it. The Golem groaned, wooden body creaking, and he flailed his branches and roots wildly while thrashing his trunk to and fro.

Down below, the two knights and the sorcerer recovered, looking around but not see many Darkwraiths standing near them; most probably were smashed into the lava and destroyed, several large roots stabbing into the lava to make sure of that, a few hitting the Cathedral Knight and woman-at-arms, but their armour protected them.

Only one Darkwraith stood up, forming a magic shield with its Dark Hand to bat aside large roots, and then running forth, blazing, twigs smoking, skull exhaling smoke and fume. The wizard faced the charging Darkwraith, the skeletal being swinging his Dark Sword upwards from below gracefully, the wizard parrying the attack with his staff, then swinging it over the magical shield and hitting the sword blade into the Darkwraith's head, then summoning a Soul Arrow within it to burst out its skull.

The Darkwraith, although missing half its head, swung its sword again, the sorcerer skipping backwards to avoid it while lunging his svardstav forth, and then the chevaleresse slashed her great sword at the Darkwraith, who spun around and parried her weapon, striking her across the helm, and then the Cathedral Knight bashed his great shield into the wraith's front and staggered him. The lass quickly thrust her big blade forth to the Darkwraith's head, but he rolled his shoulders and swung his Dark Sword across the lass's pauldron and breastplate, then quickly push-kicked the Cathedral Knight's shield back and hit him across the helm. The wizard beheaded the Darkwraith from behind, ending the wraith. As the headless body fell, the Darkwraith's stiffened arm managed to conjure a Dark Hand, which scraped down the Cathedral Knight's armour, and remained active. The big knight stomped on the Dark Hand, crushing it entirely, the dark magic swirling away into nothingness, seeing the lass and sorcerer chopping away at branches and roots, and feeling a big one hit him across the greaves, but he remained standing albeit a brief skitter.

Looking around for a moment, the sorcerer and Cathedral Knight conjured healing miracles at the same time, both kneeling while dodging a few whipping, flaming roots and branches. The big knight put his shield behind his back, got his Cleric's Candlestick, and he and the wizard continued shooting pyromancy at the Golem-tree, spreading the fire.

"That's it! Burn that damn thing to ashes!" the wizard somewhat cheered, casting more pyromancy to keep the fire going.

"Burn motherfucker, burn!" the lass squealed with joy; the giant tree grumbled, its roots hanging around its inverted body slamming into the lava, volcano walls, gigantic roots embedded in the walls, and various ruins, splashing things around, and one root striking the Cathedral Knight with such force he flew off his feet.

The sorcerer used Iron Flesh to better withstand the assault of whipping wooden things, but the Cathedral Knight's armour deflected most of the smaller ones as he picked himself up; the two continued casting fire magic at the big target, chopping at the wooden tendrils when able. As the roots and branches whipped around everywhere, they heard the flames on them whirring and growling. The lass, who did not know any magic, could only chop at the branches and roots while parrying and dodging them as best she could, feeling some hit her armour and shuffle her breastplate. Whenever she was knocked down, she rolled back to her feet.

Soon, the Golem managed to wrap a root around Spirry's waist, and then threw him down, slamming him into the lava. The devil emerged, body charred and flaming, flesh burnt black, and then he grabbed the root with both hands and was now pulling himself up it! He then gnawed on the root until his teeth broke through it, then he flew away, seeing the three Darkwraiths still mounted on the Golem's back, hacking away at it with their Dark Swords.

Receiving many magical projectiles, and being chopped up from behind, the giant tree groaned and then whipped itself sideways, the Darkwraiths having a hunch of what was going to happen, so they climbed around the trunk. Slamming itself into the wall, the giant tree intended to crush the Darkwraiths on it against the wall of rock, squishing one. The mighty crash also caused another to lose grip and fall, where it fell into the lava, and then was hammered into the molten rock by several roots. Before the giant tree could recover, Spirry flew into its face again, the charred devil clawing at the rim of the hole with his hands and feet, and began blasting fire down the tree's throat again.

Down below, the black man and the Cathedral Knight continued shooting pyromancy at the upside-down Golem-tree, the two knights and sorcerer also cutting into the incoming roots and branches with their weapons when they could, but sometimes were hit by them. Exactly how much Focus Points the Cathedral Knight and sorcerer had was a mystery, but they either had quite a lot, or it was regenerating.

"How much more fucking magic do you fucking need to fucking kill it for fuck's sake?" the lass snapped, looking at her two friends, both of them looking back at her for a moment, but said nothing, and they continued casting magic.

Angry and roaring, the Golem-tree suddenly rammed its head into the wall of stone, crushing Spirry between himself and the rocky surface. To the tree's surprise, the goddamned devil, body crushed and bones sticking out, simply regenerated, broken bones sinking into his body, blood gushing out of his mouth and wounds, and his body reforming. The Golem shifted backwards and then forwards again, crushing Spirry into the rocky wall again, with such force the Golem-tree's head cracked the stone, and then caused the devil to go limp and just fall. Spirry soon recovered, clawing at the wall and then crawling along it, just crawling around to waste some time and regenerate, and regain his senses.

Meanwhile, the giant tree still felt the constant assault of magic down below, so it turned its attention to the arch lying in the lava, the last Darkwraith still on its back and practising being a lumberjack. As pyromancy and sorcery pummelled its wooden body, the giant tree writhed towards the two knights and wizard, swiping its branches and roots like crazy at them, knocking the two Hollows over and bringing the Cathedral Knight to his knees. The big knight put his candlestick away and unslung his great shield, blocking the wooden things as the giant tree loomed over this area, receiving multiple sorcery and pyromancy spells to its front.

The giant tree roared, swinging whatever branches and roots it had left wildly, in all directions, striking anything and everything near it, smacking the three heroes off their feet. The Darkwraith on its back remained there, having chopped through the bark, but still had quite a lot to go. Lunging itself downward, branches and roots wrapped around the humongous roots overheard stretching, the giant tree tackled and scraped along the arch, squishing and scraping along the Cathedral Knight, but the lass managed to roll away, and the wizard jumped into the lava to dodge the giant tree, summoning Iron Flesh gain.

The Golem-tree then moved side to side, striking the lass in her back and she fell over, then the tree whipped to the other side, hitting the wizard with more than enough power to hurl him deeper into the lava. His Iron Flesh continued working, even affecting his clothes with the properties of iron so that they did not burn away. The giant tree arched over the wizard, branches and roots slamming all around him, the old black man casting magic and swinging his svardstav as best he could, the lava already eating through his Iron Flesh.

"Sorcerer!" the Cathedral Knight screamed in the background, picking himself up, but not knowing what to do; he could only watch as the Golem-tree's wooden appendages flurried at the sorcerer, preventing him from going anywhere.

"Well, he's a goner." the lass remarked, walking to the Cathedral Knight, the big man dropping his great sword, gripping his Cleric Candlestick, and casting fireballs at the tree, trying to do anything to help.

Up above, the devil flew by, folding his wings and diving towards the sorcerer. As he flew, the volcano shook for a second, walls rumbling, but quickly subsided.

"Yeah, go save him!" the lass cheered; the devil could just swoop in, grab the wizard, and fly off with him, after all.

The wizard fell on his knees after a root whipped across his sternum, and then several more struck him, thudding against his old body. He saw Spirry flying towards him to save him, and the wizard already felt his body shake and stretch from within. Looking up, the sorcerer saw the Golem-tree, completely flaming and smoking, the hole in its face fuming, and then it dove at the old black man. The wizard's body made cracking and churning noises, and then a Pus of Man erupted out of him, howling with great vigour, wrath and agony, for being so close to lava, immediately burst into flames.

Nevertheless, the Abyssal serpentine monster arose to meet its wooden foe, both entities blazing; Spirry flew into the side of the Pus of Man and bounced off it helplessly, but flapped his wings to avoid the bubbling molten rock below. As the Golem-tree dove, the wizard's serpentine monster lashed out, flailing its gigantic head side to side to knock aside branches and roots, then snapped its jaws and fangs over the Golem-tree's entire head.

The great weight and size of the giant tree—and the gravity behind it—was too much, the two entities struggling for a moment, and then the Golem grunting and pushing itself downwards, stretching his roots clinging on the humongous roots in the walls or ruins, and rammed the Pus of Man into the lava. As the molten rock splashed, the shadowy serpent screeched and writhed, but then began slithering over the giant tree!

Snaking over the flaming bark, the Pus of Man's movement dragging the wizard along with it, the Darkwraith looked up, see this giant thing slithering towards him, the snake smashing its head to break branches sticking out the giant tree's trunk. Constantly being on fire made everything worse, but the sorcerer cast Flash Sweat and Iron Flesh, which also affected his Abyssal friend, to better withstand the flames.

As the giant tree lifted itself—the Cathedral Knight shooting fireballs at it with his candlestick—the Pus of Man turned its head, feeling the rising movement cause its slimy body to slightly droop, and then the shadowy snake looked at the man it had erupted from, and swallowed him whole in one go, pulling him off its tail. The Abyssal fiend writhed its neck upwards, Iron Fleshed and Flash Sweating, and then a Pyromancy flame appeared in mouth, of which it then began breathing fire up the trunk, igniting even more of the giant tree; Soul magic appeared in its eyes and Soul Arrows began shooting out of them, biting into the wooden body. The Darkwraith jumped to the side to avoid the torrent of flames, clinging onto the branches or roots to swing around, a Soul Arrow targeting it and hitting it in the head.

The Golem-tree shook while groaning and creaking, swinging its many tendrils of wood upon itself, roots and branches whipping, slapping and smashing against the Pus of Man, impact causing bits of flaming bark to explode. The serpentine monster continued blasting fire out its mouth and shooting Soul magic from its eyes, body pooling and sticking on the giant flaming tree, and mighty jaws biting and crushing branches and roots. It also flailed its head down upon the Golem-tree's body, pounding with such force the tree shook and showered embers. Some roots wrapped around the Pus of Man here and there, but it refused to be pulled away.

The devil reappeared, latching onto the Golem's head, feeling several roots wrap around his neck and pull him off before he could do anything. Spirry jerked himself to and fro, until he could grab roots and chew through them, and gradually freed himself, and flew away, looking around. Down below, he saw the Cathedral Knight cast pyromancy with his Cleric's Candlestick, the female knight just hacking at the roots and branches going at her as usual, the two surrounded by bits of wood, some still squirming, all on fire.

Spirry swooped down to the arch that served as a platform for so long, flying low and picking up a Dark Sword that was lying on it, and then he flew to the Golem-tree, chopping at the wooden things swinging through the air as usual, hitting some, missing others, sometimes being hit. By this time, about a third of the roots and branches were hacked off at least partly, and now there were less things to worry about, sort of. Powerful shaking came back again, lava bubbling ferociously, and staggering the two knights.

The Golem continued its onslaught of appendages, repeatedly smashing into the Pus of Man, which in turn was repeatedly smashing its head into the tree, each hit causing blazing bits of bark and wood to flutter, but the Abyssal serpent continued breathing pyromancy projectiles and shooting Soul Arrows out its eyes. The devil landed behind the Golem-tree's head and started hacking at the neck with his Dark Sword, chipping away bit by bit, spreading his wings to stabilize himself as well as using them as a shield to block pesky roots and branches.

The fighting continued in this state for quite some time. The Cathedral Knight cast pyromancy and chopped at wooden tendrils with his sword, the lass did what she could against the roots and branches, the devil and Darkwraith were hacking away at the giant tree, the Pus of Man was empowered by Flash Sweat and Iron Flesh and pummelling its head while casting fire and soul magic, and the Golem-tree kept swinging its branches and roots like crazy, sometimes jerking itself side to side, but unable to get the bugs off itself.

While Spirry hacked at the neck, feeling the trunk shaking from the Pus of Man's headbutting, he looked up and saw the Darkwraith running across the tree. The Golem must have bent itself upwards until the front half of its body was nearly horizontal, and then the Darkwraith drop-kicked the devil in the head, knocking him off the tree. Spirry back-flipped midair and then glided away, cutting in all directions at the flailing tendrils of woof.

Looking up, and seeing the major branches and roots clinging to the embedded roots, Spirry flew to them, latching upon them, and started cutting and breathing fire at them. If he destroyed them, the tension and stretching would cause the tree to fall.

Meanwhile, the Darkwraith jumped over the back of the Golem-tree's head, spinning around and stabbing into the Golem's mouth, hanging by the sword, and then conjured its Dark Hand and grabbed the rim of the Golem's hole, and hung there, draining the wooden monster's life, but that did not seem to do anything.

Nevertheless, with so many things happening at once, Spirry managed to chew, chop and inflame some of the branches and roots supporting the giant tree, breaking them, and then the Golem-tree shifted down a bit, weight causing other roots to snap. The devil continued damaging the suspension.

The Pus of Man slithered around here and there, constantly smashing its head into the tree and casting fire and soul magic out its head, until it eventually came towards the end of the Golem-tree, and assuming its head to be a weak spot, raised itself, hissing furiously for it was still constantly within flames, and bit around the back of the Golem's head, crunching into it, and surprising the Darkwraith on the other side.

"So, is that Darkwraith on our side now or what?" the lass asked, the other knight shrugged, and he just continued shooting fire magic, and the lass continued fighting the branches and roots.

Eventually, Spirry destroyed enough wooden things suspending the Golem-tree to cause it to gradually fall shift in spasms, ready to fall. At the same time, the Darkwraith's Dark Hand drained enough life and energy of the tree, weakening it enough so that it was unable to effectively swing its appendages or hold itself. The Pus of Man's fangs dug deeper into the Golem's wooden neck, and everything else going on, the Golem-tree groaned, and then the roots and branches suspending it began snapping or sliding off whatever they were holding, and after a few seconds of shifting, the giant tree fell.

Immediately, the Pus of Man bit the Darkwraith and hurled him away somewhere, then the giant tree plunged headfirst into the lava, splashing molten rock everywhere, and then the trunk leaning over and resting against the walls of the volcano. The tree's tendrils moved a little as it very, very slowly sank into the lava for a few seconds, more and more flames bursting, and the lava bubbling more and more furiously, reacting to the disturbance violently.


	17. Ignition - Like a Light

**Ignition, part 1**

 **Like a Light Shining in Darkness**

What a dark, strange, silent forest it was, like a gentle nightmare, put to sleep with fog and moonlight, with not even a cricket to be heard chirping. Yes, a swampy dark forest is to be imagined, filled with black spruces, larches, alders, and weeping willows, trees that emanated sadness, as if pulling in their despair with a held breath under the cloudy moonlight. The vegetation here was thick, undying, but not flourishing either; not even the trees and plants could avoid the curse.

The curse—that curse—sunk deep into the hearts and minds of the living everywhere they could be found, and those who had died, rotted away into the earth, the memories of those living things now as good as rot, but a portion were partial skeletons, and bones, blanketed by moss. Now, then, the hungry roots of trees devoured the cursed bones of the branded undead, consuming it, and obtaining it. Since then, not even insects could live here very well, they too, suffered.

It can be sees how much the curse eats the insides of the trees, churning the bowels and intestines of those perennial things, reshaping them. The trees are gnarly, twisted, as if they had been writhing in pain, and then froze. Those wooden beings, if they could talk, would tell you so much about their hard bodies absorbing the curse that fed the earth from accursed, rotten corpses. Those rotten corpses, now thoroughly decomposed and leaving nothing behind but pulpy ground; at least, it's still food for the deathly but undying plants.

The only company were the mists, sometimes volumes of it flowing slowly, like a conjunction of ghosts strolling along, fuming out as ghastly apparitions. The branches slightly shook upon being touched by those foggy images, even trunks creaked gently, as if ready to groan by the weightless irritation of those spiritual yet unwelcoming things. The fingernails of the soulful fog scratched against the bark gently, sometimes leaving marks, sometimes audibly tapping against the bark, and a few nails even were pulled off the finger, stuck in the trees for a short while before swirling away into white mist.

But how much do these willows, larches, alders and spruces suffer? So much so, that faces had formed on the bark of all the trees, barky faces locked in grimaces, terror, or limp expressions. The trunks also had bark that had grown to appear like spinal cords and ribcages, sometimes even pelvises. The branches of the trees even had elbows, or so it seemed, and also many fingers, as twigs, and leaves as fingernails. If disembodies spirits had entered the trees and became trapped beneath the bark, then they would remain in a woody purgatory for quite a while.

The willow trees, with their dark, mossy, hanging branches, resembled wooden maidens, the hanging branches looking like hair covering faces of anguish and fright. The willow trees near bodies of water, oddly enough, grew away from the water, as if not wanting to see their own reflection. One particular willow tree was full of catkins, perhaps the only tree producing seeds. Although there was no wind, the catkins shook constantly every few seconds, always at the same time, and always stopping at the same time.

The canopy of this amphibious forest had grown into a skeleton of intertwining wooden branches and twigs, as if the wooden beings, like skeletons begging, clutched one another from all directions, to never let go, to always be with one another, forever, even beyond light and dark, blanketed by moist fog. The fog had no shame in covering anything, openly enshrouding any and all who wished to be embraced by the ghostly vapour. If one were to peer closely, one could see the skeletal faces of spirits in the fog, passing by trees like exhaled breath from a dying ancient dragon, the outlines of their vaporous hands clawing and grabbing branches as they flowed through them.

Lichens, moss, and strips of broken branches and twigs dotted the canopy here and there, some lichen and moss hanging down several metres, a small portion even reaching the ground and sitting on it, or reaching bodies of water and floating in it. As such, the canopy blocked-out most moonlight, but the woody spider web of tangled branches had significant openings here and there, allowing beams of moonlight to shine through, and illuminate whatever happened to be below, such as ground, grasses, mushrooms, ponds, or sections of the bog.

A large volume of black, murky clouds floated across the moon's radiance, sealing its face from the world, like an unpleasant mask of disgust forced on a child; the starlight was an afterthought and not even worth mentioning, it was nowhere to be seen in the sky. Without moonlight, the sky was quite black, pitch-black, so black, blacker than darkness, and darker than any fatherless curse.

The flames will fade, as is known from the past of this life, and the flames of this broken world have faded, but the curse remains. Only darkness and blackness covers the world. A moment in time when the night sky is clear, is like day; when the moonlight shines, that is like daytime. But when the sky is cloudy, and moonlight and starlight is blocked, that is true nighttime. Has the curse grown, or been replaced by an even greater curse? Who knows?

Within such remorseful darkness, even the tiniest light is a powerful sprite. No matter how much darkness and blackness envelopes everything, even the tiniest light will not flee; an impenetrable, endless shadow is held back by the tiniest light. But when fire dies, where does this light come from?

Floating around the swamp was a bright thing, as if appearing from thin air; a sudden sparkle, a mere twinkling, it had been born. No, not a firefly, nor any glowing insect, but none other than will-o'-the-wisp, sometimes known as a ghost light, or jack-o'-lantern, but perhaps the term onibi is most acceptable. The atmospheric ghost light, a natural phenomenon, was certifiably not fire, but still as bright as the hottest flame. The orb of glowing, floating light hovered a little here, and a little there, illuminating the scenery nearby itself, such as the hanging branches, suspended mosses, fog passing through itself, and vegetation. This was Little Onibi, quite the persistent little creature, unafraid of the dreamy wetlands, a tiny being of light.

The will-o'-the-wisp waggled for a moment, but glowed and glided gracefully nonetheless, even as a mist of frozen faces of fear washed over it, misty skeletal faces within the fog gazing at the orb of light, and some clawing at it, for whatever reason. But, Little Onibi was not afraid of them. No, not at all, could any true hero ever be afraid of anything? What a remarkable little creature Little Onibi was: ageless, soulless, brainless, fearless...

Shimmering both brilliantly and brightly, Little Onibi noticed something quite odd; more glowing things?A few things glowed green, perhaps strange statuettes that spat poison somehow? Curious, the ghost light flew over, to take a look. Illuminating the glowing greenness, it was revealed to be foxfire, a kind of glowing green fungus. It glowed like greenish embers, but unlike fire, was cold to the touch. Why was the glowing green fungus called foxfire? Perhaps a nogitsune caused them.

Little Onibi examined the foxfire, hovering before it, and tilting, as if confused by it. The ghost light wobbled for a moment and then flew on, along the wetlands, and over ponds, looking at the floating lily pads, bulrushes, cattails, mushrooms, fungi, shrubs, ferns, logs, mossy rocks, grasses, toadstools, and whatever else that happened to be below. The creature of light also flew under arching plants, betwixt contorted branches, through hollowed logs, under the caps of huge mushrooms, and over ponds that reflected the image of the ghost light. What an adventure it must have been for Little Onibi!

Sometime later, after much floating and exploring under a masked moon hidden by a blackened sky, something interesting began to appear; the silhouette of a building? The ghost light floated towards the silhouette, and eventually, it uncovered the blackness, like a light shining in darkness, and a Gothic temple was unveiled.

The temple looked older than ancient, not even having a ceiling, which had fallen apart long ago. It was overwhelmed by vegetation, the buttresses holding drapes of mossy vines, and the cracked stonework filled-in with pulpy green. The trees nearby had facial images in their bark that gazed up at the temple, in hatred and fear.

Standing at a gigantic height, the temple was so tall that it disappeared into the blackness of the night sky; if only it had a roof! The roofless monumental building easily dwarfed every tree in this swamp, and its buttresses, now revealed to have ascending buttresses atop them, and then multiple levels of more ascending buttresses, had mossy belfry gargoyles perched upon them here and there.

Beyond the temple, seemed to be the silhouette of ruins, ruins of towers, walls, shrines, tombstones, statues, stairs, and buildings, which have been sinking into the swampland for countless generations even since immemorable times from an unknown past, submerged in earth and water about halfway. Yet the temple remained above the earth, refusing to succumb to a subterranean grave.

There was only one guard performing his duty, and so Little Onibi flew over to investigate. Sunken diagonally down into the boggy ground, nearby the entrance to the temple, with only one shoulder and a head visible, was one of the stone knights. The tip of his sword, resembling a gigantic cinquedea, visibly stuck out from the ground a few feet off the side, but he was rather stuck, without recourse. His armour consisted of mossy stone formed to appear as plate armour for the entire body, with a horizontally crested, rounded helm resembling a visored sallet donning his head. The stone knight was quite gigantic, perhaps a terrifying ten feet tall or so, but was motionless.

Well, Little Onibi flew up-close to the stone knight's helm, illuminating the blackness behind the eye slits of the helm, but nothing could be seen. Although perfectly still, for some reason, the stone knight felt alive, felt like living magic, yet that essence refused to budge. Though considering its situation, perhaps it was best to guard as a silent, submerged statue.

Curious about the temple, Little Onibi flew to the entrance, but the gigantic, rotted double doors were closed; no way through that. The creature looked up, but felt a bit nervous in flying over the walls of the temple, and that would take too long anyways. Perhaps that was another way into the temple? Off the ghost light went, around the temple, to investigate. He came upon the forested graveyard beside it, and what an immense graveyard it was, consisting of rolling hills, a town of tombstones it felt like! Like the temple, the graveyard seemed to be upon solid ground, enough to prevent sinking.

The will-o'-the-wisp soon came upon a pond, with a large metal hump protruding out the centre, as big as a man-sized boulder. The hump appeared to be laminated, with sliding rivets to allow the lames to move up and down. Floating around the metal hump were a few lily pads. What ever could this be? Perhaps Little Onibi needed a closer look?


	18. Ignition - Heavy Metal

**Ignition, part 2**

 **Heavy Metal**

Sure enough, the hump of riveted metal came to life, slightly moving around for a second, and then it reared back; an ironclad soldier arose from that little pond, kneeling on both knees and moved his torso up straight, water flushing over his armour and out from within at the joints and openings, making him look like a metal fountain. The pond rippled, and lily pads floated around him, and one lily pad rested like a mat over his helm, blocking vision; it must have stuck on his helmet somehow when he came to life. The big turtle-at-arms shifted backwards, sitting down, knees bent up and poking out of the water surface, and arms resting over them. He shook his head, and looked side to side slowly, wondering what the hell was going on.

"Oh, I'm here?" He asked with a deep rumbling voice, sounding like a giant leaking gutter pipe.

The ironclad soldier just sat there, some water still pouring out as tiny torrents. His armour consisted of thick, robust plate armour, with rectangular faulds, and the sabatons were large and broad; overall, the armour had quite a composite appearance. The armour had a peculiar immense backplate which was greatly globose and had a wide rim, and indeed, made the soldier resemble a bipedal metal turtle. The helmet was large and rounded, seemingly consisting of short but thick bands of metal riveted together to form a globular, solid helm with rather large diamond-shaped eye slits.

The armour was plain and undecorated, but the swampy pond had preserved the armour rather well, but it nevertheless was old, muddy, dirty, yucky, rusty, and covered with slippery algae. He himself, like other ironclad soldiers, was quite gigantic, perhaps seven feet tall or more and extremely bulky, and his armour made him look even bigger. He pinched the lily pad over his helmet with two gauntlet fingers and tossed it away, and tried to stand, armour creaking and clicking as he did so with a struggle.

With such great weight on his back and shoulders, he had to put one arm down, hand sinking in the pond, and he stood up, slowly but surely. Gradually, his feet planted in the watery ground, and he stood, having to put both hands on his knees (over the articulated greaves) to put himself vertical. Once upright, he nearly lost balance, the great weight on the back of his armour the cause. After being dead for so long, his bones, tendons and muscles could scarcely manage even themselves.

He looked around, though saw nothing but blackness; his eyes were pale spheres that looked soulless and lifeless. But, there was a break in the clouds, and moonlight shone, casting a gloomy ray of whiteness in-between the temple and graveyard. Well, from that, the ironclad soldier could see the dark outlines of graves, but did not remember anything. Hollows usually didn't remember much, other than to fight things that moves if they looked foreign.

The turtle walked off to the side, feeling his armoured legs kicking water as he went, wondering why that was the case. Buoyancy was not something long-dead undead knew about very often, but at least he made it out of the deadly waters, rivets, lames, laminations, joints, hinges and bolts screeching and creaking in rusted protest. Armoured legs dripping, the ironclad soldier had finally left his watery grave, and moved his limbs around; the armour felt a bit lighter now that most of the water leaked out. The two-handed giant mace that this type of soldier wields did not seem to be anywhere in sight, perhaps it was still underwater?

The big noisy rusted thing walked around aimlessly, not knowing what to do, unable to think. Was he supposed to be doing something? Ah, yes, guard; he had to guard something, or someone; whatever. He walked into a short tombstone, and tripped on it, flipping over it and landing on his backplate. Limbs writhing, he seemed stuck, like an overturned turtle. Eventually, he figured out how to get back on his feet, by rolling over, going on all fours, and picking himself up. He did so.

"Ha ha!" He exclaimed in triumph, and then overheard footfall; he straightened himself and listened cautiously, though wearing such a big metal helm, he could not hear or see much., but vision wasn't all that important since the moon was the only source of light, so long as it was not covered by clouds.

The footfall sounded heavy, accompanied by metallic clicking, and the clinking shuffling of chainmail. It sounded like a heavily armoured chevalier, for sure, that was a sound he knew. Staring through the pierced openings for the eyes, the ironclad soldier searched for the incoming foe, but could only hear, and not see. Clouds began to stretch across the moon, blocking even more precious, beautiful light.

But then, the ironclad soldier saw something else, a floating orb of light, the ghost light. Little Onibi floated along as if nothing happened, and its aura illuminated nearby surroundings, and soon the light glimmered on the surface of a darkly armoured knight walking through the foggy shadows.

"Golem?" The ironclad soldier asked no-one, for the approaching foe was quite tall, much taller than he himself!

Upon speaking, the dark-armoured knight paused, and turned to the side, to face the source of the sound. The ghost light flew by in-between the two heavily armoured soldiers, and so neared the other one, revealing its appearance. That one wore dark full plate armour, narrow at the waist area, so that the breastplate and backplate slid over a narrow plackart, and having faulds of some sort extending down the thighs. The gauntlets were peculiar in having greatly flaring cuffs similar to Gothic style. The pauldrons were notably rounded, and the front of the breastplate was globular, like in Milanese fashion.

The opening of the breastplate and backplate for the head to pass through had an extended portion, going up to cover the back and sides of the head. The knight, surprisingly, wore an open-faced helmet, with a deep bowl, cheek guards, and a reinforced rim, but no nasal guard. The steel helmet appeared to once have a metal crest, but it had broken off long ago.

Etching and chiselling in the form of decorations appeared on the armour, but it was nevertheless mostly rusty and dirty, having gone through cleaning and maintenance for possibly thousands of years, but even homogeneous steel, no matter how often maintained, eventually begins to wear-out.

The knight's mace and shield also were rusty and ancient; the mace did not even have a wooden handle left, and was just an iron rod with a huge steel flanged head on the end. The shield was also quite gigantic, a metal rectangular shield resembling a scutum almost as tall as its wielder. The knight had extremely long, messy, ashen hair, which hung down the sides of the front of the breastplate like two scruffy fox tails. Perhaps that was why the knight wore an open helm. The knight's face had lifeless skin the color of blackened ashes, and empty eye sockets.

The knight was much taller than the ironclad soldier, like a tower of steel, possibly eight feet tall or more, but not as thick as the turtle-at-arms. Nevertheless, that immensely tall knight was an intimidating opponent, who clearly was one of the knights who followed Berenike and his companions, known for their extraordinary size, build, strength, and heavy equipment (as well as having empty eye sockets). This one differed, in that, oddly enough, the knight's mouth, nose and eyes constantly leaked blood, steadily flowing down the face and over the breastplate, which then trickled down the armour and dripped onto the ground. The blood had a dark cherry glow, very unusual, as glowing blood did not exist in either Lordran or Drangleic.

The two undead cap-a-pied characters looked at each others' heads, and, with hollowed instinct, heedlessly approached each other. They both came from different factions, different worlds, even affected slightly differently by the curse; no surprise they'd view one another as enemies. You are what you are...

The ironclad soldier gripped his invisible mace and lifted it overhead, intending to bring it down and crush his much taller opponent, and then realized he was not wielding anything at all! He looked at his armoured palms, wondering what he had done wrong, unable to figure out why he was absent of a weapon. He looked down; perhaps he wore a sword-belt and had a sheathed longsword and dagger at his sides? He patted his thighs to check; nope.

"Wait, I have no weapon!" The ironclad soldier moaned like a dying bucket trapped in a cave, lifting his hands, but his foe simply huffed.

"You invaders are all the same; dishonest, scheming, pretending everything!" The Berenike scoffed, surprisingly, having a metallic but feminine voice, which constantly gurgled whenever speaking, causing blood to spatter out; some of the blood landed on Little Onibi, but it just fell through, and it gradually hovered away carelessly.

Well, too late to think; the Berenike knight ran forth, armour clicking, shield up front, and smote the turtle-at-arms in the helm. The mace collided powerfully with a metallic crunch, with such force that the handle vibrated and the head bounced back; the ironclad soldier's helm poofed with rust upon impact, and the blunt force trauma caused him to stagger slightly.

The Berenike knight lifted her mace up high, even raising a knee, just for a little extra power, intending to cave-in her opponent's helm. Springing to action, the ironclad fellow skipped forth, pulling open and then pushing aside the giant shield in the way with his right hand, and with the left forearm, struck it against the knight's gauntlet cuff, so that it glanced; only the shaft of the mace hit him in the helm. He punched his foe in the helmet with his free hand but that did little; the two pushed themselves into each other, trying to overcome the other.

Immediately and suddenly, the ironclad headbutted the knight in the face; the open-faced helmet shuffled backwards from the impact—chinstrap keeping it on—and the Berenike knight felt most of the helm's force strike her in the nose and mouth; hot, sharp, stinging pain shot through her teeth, nose, jawline, and cheekbones, and it was not going away, it stayed, with ever the greater sensation. She staggered from that headbutt, lifting her mace up, as if to try and stifle the pain somehow, the heel of her sabaton hitting a gravestone and nearly causing her to fall.

Ironclad did not know she almost lost balance, but regardless, he dove into his foe's midsection, shoulder tackling into her plackart, the great weight of himself and his armour easily driving her backwards. The chevaleresse's back hit the ground heavily, feeling the force of the fall surge through her spine, stomach and ribs. The front of her shield also hit the ground, and her opponent landed atop herself, their armours clicking loudly from that heavy movement, rivets and lames screeching, rust flaking, and metal scraping. The clouds began to cover most of the moon by this time.

The Berenike knight attempted to club the turtle-at-arms with her mace, but was largely unsuccessful, and the weight of her iron shield prevented her from using her left arm right now. She resorted to clubbing the butt of her mace repeatedly into the ironclad soldier, but that did little. He managed to put a hand down against the inside of the knight's forearm, the arm that wielded the shield, holding it down and rendering the knight's left arm useless due to the weight of himself and the shield, but still felt the butt of the mace repeatedly pummelling him in the helm, but did not do much other than clink. A volume of ghostly fog floated by, some of the spirits in them scratching the armoured warriors for a second, but the mist soon flowed away.

To return the favour, the ironclad soldier, one hand pressing the forearm and shield down, and other planted on the knight's breastplate, started headbutting his opponent repeatedly in the front of the helmet, his obviously larger, heavier helm now essentially an angry battering ram. Blood quickly spattered over both helms.

Feeling her face, teeth, chin, jawline, nose and cheekbones getting mashed, the chevaleresse had to think of something quick, receiving blow after blow from that angry turtle. She tried to roll her shoulders, as to evade her head, but her armour's protrusion that covered the sides and back of her head prevented that from happening. The ironclad was too heavy to shove aside as well, so all that was left was to lower her head, to look down, so that the brow of her helm received the headbutts, which dazed her, but it was better than getting your face mashed.

Both helms clanking against each other, the ironclad wanted to preform a stronger headbutt, rearing himself as to flail his helm downwards like a meteor. The Berenike knight raised her waist when the soldier reared, which slightly kept her foe raised, and from than, let go of her mace and grabbed his free arm (the one not holding her shield down), pulling it away from him upwards; this shifted the turtle's weight, causing him to fall forwards a bit and become off-balance for a moment.

The knight then quickly freed her hands, letting go of her shield, placing her hands on the ironclad's helm, one over the other, and pushed his head back. She then stuck her thumbs into the eye openings, digging them into the soldier's eye sockets. Feeling the gauntlets poke and scrape his eyeballs, the soldier reared; the knight let him, and quickly reached for her mace, fingers clasping dirt, but she quickly found her mace, gripped it, and swung it across the ironclad's head while turning her torso.

The turtle-at-arms felt the blow and was stunned; the knight shuffled herself backwards, somewhat crawling backwards using elbows and squirming, and once able, pushed both legs into the turtle's front, and pushed him away. Both combatants got up at the same time. The Berenike knight gripped her mace with both hands now, and legs somewhat spread apart to maintain her poise better, crab-walked to the soldier. She then delivered a diagonal strike with her mace, but to her surprise, struck a shield; she did not noticed that the ironclad soldier had grabbed her own shield while getting up and used it.

After the mace bounced off the shield, the ironclad rammed its front into the knight while running forth, intending to push her over. She turned her left foot to the left, and kept her right foot pointed forwards, and bent her knees, to keep herself strongly positioned, and was not overcome. Still gripping her mace with both hands, she lifted it and arched it forwards, so that the butt of the mace hooked over the rim of the shield. By pulling both hands towards herself, she also wrenched the shield down, and at the same time, smashed ironclad in his helm with her mace, and stunned him.

Lifting her mace for another strike, the turtle quickly (by ironclad standards) raised his shield so that it was positioned above himself rather horizontally, blocking the mace, and at the same time, the bottom rim struck the knight in the face.

"Ow! For god's sake, quit hitting me in the face!" The Berenike knight squealed, blood flying out her mouth, greatly irritated by the same kind of pain.

"Well, maybe you should wear a better helmet!" The ironclad shouted back from behind the shield.

The Berenike then made a powerful, metallic, raspy screech that would frighten any man out of skin (and put any black metaler to shame) and assaulted her shield held by her opponent, using two-handed blows with her mace. The head smashed into the shield, clanging against it recklessly and relentlessly; the ironclad, although unharmed, felt the blows shake his hands and fingers even, hurting them. He hid behind the shield, keeping it in front of his attacker, who tried to chop through it with her concussive weapon; she had to run out of steam soon!

Two tails of hair flailing, blood pouring, and exhaling breath bellowing furiously, the Berenike knight eventually stopped, gasping for air, undead lungs inflating and deflating painfully, as if filled with sharp pieces of glass that kept trying to sink into her heart. The coldness of the air also hurt her throat, esophagus and teeth. If only she was not undead, she would have felt much more pain.

The moon by this time was beginning to be blocked-out by dark clouds, and the fog became thicker, volumes of mist shrouding nearer the two armoured combatants. The two combatants did not care about the fog, and rammed into each other aggressively but weakly. The soldier managed to grab a length of hair with his free hand and pulled on it.

"Ow, my face!" The knight squealed, "I mean my hair!" she corrected herself, leaning over while having her hair pulled. "Stop fighting like a girl!" She whined, and managed to stick a finger of her gauntlet into the soldier's eye socket, giving him enough pain to snap her head back and free her hair.

During that unexpected pause, the ironclad then bashed his shield into the Berenike knight's front, staggering her, and then punched her in the face with his free hand, causing her to make a little squeak in pain. She retaliated by grabbing the shield's rim with one hand, and leaned over it, using her body weight to push it down, and then clubbed the ironclad soldier multiple times in rapid hits with her mace, its flanges and shaft beginning to bend.

The turtle jammed his shoulder into the inside of the shield, and at the same time, rammed the shield into the Berenike knight; the momentum staggered her. He then quickly did this again and toppled the winded knight over, who crashed heavily onto her back. Ironclad lifted his shield and slammed the bottom rim into the toppled knight's throat, to crush the trachea so that she could not breathe. Or so he expected; the "rim" of metal sticking upwards from the breastplate and backplate was in the way, so the shield only hit that, not the knight's throat.

"Aw! That was close!" The knight exclaimed; she then positioned her legs so that one foot was behind the ironclad's right ankle, and the other foot pushing against his right thigh, somewhat locking that leg from moving and preventing him from going forwards for a brief moment.

Pushing aside the shield in her face, the knight then grasped the side of the shield with the strength of a vice grip and picked herself up, but the ironclad push-kicked her in the front and that put her back down to the ground. Eager to simply beat the knight to death solely with blunt force trauma, the ironclad soldier dropped the scutum (it thudded against the earth) and then attempted to mount his foe. He was panting heavily; since the ironclads wore helms without breath holes, they overheated quickly due to lack of ventilation.

Surprisingly, the Berenike knight sat up, blood still flowing out her mouth, nose and eyes, lifted her legs, rolled backwards over her shoulders halfway, and then kicked herself up right back onto her feet! She then grabbed the surprised ironclad by the pauldrons, put a foot behind his own as to trip him, and basically whipped him off to the side, causing him to fall over, despite ever so slowly descending. He rolled over onto a gravestone and his weight broke it; the globular backplate, however, prevented him from rolling onto his back, so he ended up sitting.

Eager for revenge, the Berenike knight grabbed a huge chunk of broken tombstone and threw it into the ironclad's head, the chunk of stonework breaking apart upon impact and dazing the tired soldier. The knight kicked the soldier's head as if it were a metal ball, mostly out of anger than logical sense, sabaton clicking against helm. She then grabbed another big chunk of broken tombstone, gripping it in both hands, and repeatedly smashed it atop the soldier's head and pauldrons like an angry Neanderthal about to die of overexertion.

"Eat it you stupid turtle!" She yelled, gasping for air at every breath, and after hitting her foe several times with the broken masonry, she lost grip and strength, and it fell out her hands, thudding against the ground.

The Berenike knight fell to one knee, one hand on her armoured thigh and the other on the ground, breathing as if suffocating, blood and sweat pouring out her head and pooling on the ground. The two plated combatants breathed, both full of pain and heat emanating from their bodies. The soldier sat up and lunged with a punch, and it pathetically hit the knight in the face, but she did not complain this time. Both were too tired to fight, and both ended up sitting down, facing each other warily.

"Feel better?" The ironclad asked, his helmet dented in at the front half, but not quite deep enough to kill him.

"Yeah." The knight replied lightly, and both of them noticed the rim of the moon gradually becoming black; night met it's own night, and everything, within seconds, became pitch-black as vast waves of mists swirled towards the scene, filled with ghostly demonic skeletal faces.

In darkness and silence, all that could be heard was the panting and pouring blood. The knight lifted her chin, and noticed that her opponent's eyes glowed red, as if red lights shone out his eyeballs; the ironclads had the effect of the Red Tearstone in them, and this one had activated, albeit a bit late. He also looked up.

"OK, maybe we'll call it a draw." He remarked; the knight grabbed her nose and cracked it back in tis proper position.

The ironclad soldier then noticed something odd; the knight's blood glowed red, faintly, but visibly emanating redness. Sitting in such vast blackness, the two glowing sources offered just enough light to see nearby. A tiny amount of light is like a lot of light when surrounded by endless darkness after all. The two armoured characters looked around, noticing that the ghastly fog approached them as several large mists, the whiteness filled with skeletal faces, some with long flowing hair, and others with hands scratching at trees.

Since the mists approached them, ever so slowly, the two assumed that the fog was, well, perhaps a matter of some concern. More whiteness shrouded at ground level, slowly rising. Now that all attention was focused on the fog, it could be heard that the skeletal ghostly faces were whispering every few seconds in some language. The mists were gradually surrounding the two characters, floating amidst graves, tombstones, and statues, but most of the fog was hidden in the blackness farther away.

"I take it the fog is evil and dangerous?" The knight asked, her blood dripping on and on, and then noticed the ghost light floating along, perhaps twenty metres away, just flying from grave to grave; the fog appeared to avoid the light.


	19. Ignition - Follow the Light

**Ignition, part 3**

 **Follow the Light**

The swirling volumes of demonic fog, like a malevolent breath, neared the two armoured characters. The claws of that demonic fog scraped along the face-formed bark of the trees, scratching those hideous grimaces, sometimes dragging hanging moss and lichen as they moved, ghastly faces grimacing, grinding the teeth, shaking, or opening the mouth as far as possible. It was not long until the ironclad soldier and the Berenike knight (who now wielded her mace and shield) ended up jogging after the ghost light, for indeed, the fog dissipated when too close to it.

The Berenike knight even swung her mace once across a swirling mace of demonic fog, but it passed through without doing anything, but she did feel the spirits grasp her mace, as if trying to pull it out of her grip, but they were no match for the might of a Berenike. The ironclad tried pushing and punching the evil fog, but did nothing; one rather powerful demonic arm clenched his forearm, hearing rapid tinkling, as if innumerable tiny claws attacked his armour, and nearly pulled him off his feet, but the great weight of his shellplate prevented that from happening. Since the fog could potentially harm them, but they could not harm it, the best option was to withdraw.

Armours clinking and squeaking, the two cap-a-pied undead simply walked with the Little Onibi, who stopped, turned around, and looked at them; they looked down upon it. After a few seconds, it continued floating along; the two followed it, looking around every few seconds. As they walked, their heavy feet crushed plants and earth, sunk into bog land with audible squishy or sucking noises, and splashed water around.

The ironclad soldier's leg suddenly shot down into the earth, sinking up to the crotch; the Berenike knight slung her great shield over the shoulders (the strap consisted of a chain), and with one hand, helped her ironclad friend out by grabbing his hand and helping him up. The two noticed that the marshland was potentially quite dangerous for such heavily armoured as they, and they could possibly vanish into soft, mushy earth. Being swallowed by the swamp was not a pleasant way to die, to disappear under yucky dirty waters, and drown stuck. They had to watch their step.

"Thanks." The ironclad soldier said, unable to keep it in; the Red Tearstone effect was still active.

"About time you thanked me." The Berenike replied.

"See? We're friends now. I think that fog isn't following us anymore, or at least less is. When I tried to fight it, I felt the mists clink against my armour, you know." The soldier remarked.

"Mhm, they tried to grab my mace when I swung it at them, too." The Berenike knight said after a few seconds, dark, blank eyes scouting around, blood still leaking out her face and mouth and audibly dripping against her armour.

The ironclad soldier heard a crack underfoot while walking; he stopped, looked down, and noticed he had stepped on a skull, and crushed through it. Bones and skeletons, partly sunken and some partly sticking out, decorated the marshy ground here and there. Some bones and skeletons even seemed to have moulded into some trees and plants; one mushroom cap resembled a skull, and one small tree hand branches that looked like skeletal arms, fingers at the ends, and fingernails looking like leaves.

"You coming or what?" The Berenike knight called, turning to the side; the ironclad jogged after her.

"Why does your blood glow?" He asked.

"Why do your eyes glow?" She replied.

"I don't know, I think it's the Red Tearstone effect, the Ironclad Soldiery have it." He answered; she nodded.

"Do they? Never heard of them, though Red Tearstone, I've seen some with that magic ring, it grants them strength and power upon sensing or nearing death. What a useless little think, would be better to grant that power constantly!" She spat.

"I agree. So, I told you what I think I know about my glow, what about your blood?" The ironclad soldier inquired.

"I don't know. It feels like I woke up walking. I thought I was dreaming, until, well, I woke up, walking. I've been wandering around for so long, yet I don't remember anything. But this hurts, my bleeding hurts, why it glows, I don't know. But we're both glowing, that makes us easy to see in the dark, so be careful, just in case." The Berenike replied, blood continuously pouring out of her eyes, nose and mouth, voice gurgling, and then she walked into a tree by accident, impact and thud causing it to shake, some leaves and twigs falling; the facial expressions trapped beneath the bark suddenly changed, to that of surprise, and and then froze like that.

The knight recovered quickly, wondering how she walked into a freaking tree. She looked at her ironclad friend, who continued strolling along, hoping he did not see what happened, but considering his helm and the immense darkness, probably not. She quickly walked on before the foggy apparitions got too close, exhaling and whispering in the shadows. She felt one of those foggy hands claw down her left pauldron and just scrape the metal without doing anything, but she felt extreme coldness from that touch. Armour shuffling and clicking, she reached her former duellist and walked along with him; surprisingly, he suddenly turned to the side when she met up with him, almost flinching.

"Who were you expecting?" She asked; the soldier huffed.

The two heavily armoured undead trudged through the swampy forested graveyard, following the ghost light, bypassing gravestones, trees, tombs, statues, plants, ponds, and such scenery as already described. The mists continued their slow-paced pursuit but did not do anything threatening. The Berenike knight noticed a section of the graveyard which had sunken tombstones, and the ghost light floated across that area.

"Uh oh, looks like the water is quite deep over there." The soldier remarked, one leg sinking into the swampy ground.

The knight looked around, but there was not much to see, however, she overheard footfall from several incoming areas.

"Hear that? People are coming." She warned.

"I think we can step on the gravestones to make our way across the marsh here." The soldier said, ignoring what his friend just said, stepping on a sunken gravestone and then standing on it; it did not sink.

The footfall became louder, and those walking made occasional grunts, sniffles, breaths, and moans.

"Hollows." The Berenike knight remarked nonchalantly.

She turned around to see what her friend was doing, and the giant metal turtle was hopping along the sunken tombstones as if they were steppingstones. Despite the great weight of his shellplate—that gigantic protrusive backplate—he was remarkably agile, even balancing on one foot here. He hopped a bit here and there, sometimes almost falling or slipping, but never plunging into the swampy depths below. Little Onibi's light revealed skeletons and corpses stuck in the swamps, and sometimes they even moved, turning their heads or skulls, to look at the floating light.

The Berenike knight gripped her mace with both hands, eventually seeing silhouettes of hollowed undead. They were simply animate corpses in rags, sometimes carrying shovels, rakes, sticks, or rocks, what harm could they do? One of the hollows threw a rock, which bounced off the Berenike knight's breastplate, thudding against it, but nothing really happened. One of the hollows ran forth, lifting both arms and swatting them down, striking the knight's armour with such force that he literally broke both his elbows, forearms cracked sideways and then dangling loosely.

The knight tapped her mace into the attacking hollow's forehead, flange fracturing the skull, and the hollow fell over leaking blood. Several hollows charged, bare feet slapping against the marshy ground, some brandishing tools. Not like rakes, shovels, hammers, hatchets and sticks would do anything; the Berenike knight swung her mace sideways, the two-handed swing so powerful that it struck a hollow's head as if it were water, skull and brains splatting, and the momentum of the mace continued and hit a second hollow's head, knocking him over.

The knight felt a shovel glance off her helmet, and she gave that attacking hollow a headbutt, helmet cracking his skull open and that was enough to take him down. She then push-kicked another hollow in the sternum, and he fell flat on his rear. She then backhanded another hollow, cuff of her gauntlet smashing his skull open and he fell over.

Obviously, the Berenike knight had no problems fending off many hollows on her own. After perhaps twenty seconds, her mace dripped with blood, and bits of skull, torn skin, strips of cloth, and hair was stuck on it. One hollow with a broken sword swung it downwards, and the knight simply put her mace in the way, incoming sword glancing down the shaft, and then the hollow swordsman's head was mashed into his shoulders.

Another walking corpse attacked the knight, having a knife and shield, swinging the curved knife rapidly in all directions, edge scraping against the steel armour but doing nothing. Once he got tired, the knife swung her mace diagonally downward from above; the hollow raised his shield, but the impact drove it into his head and knocked him down regardless. While on his back, the knight stepped on his groin, applied her body weight over it, hearing the hollow groan, and then drove her mace down into his face, ploughing the head into the earth. She felt a thrown rock hit her back, uselessly bouncing off the shield covering her backside.

The Berenike knight then realized that the demonic mists were quite close, mere metres away, devilish transparent faces snarling, whispering, grinning, grinding their teeth, or rapidly opening and closing their mouths so that their teeth clicked repeatedly. One mist floated over a grunting stupid hollow, sucking him in, and the demonic arms scratched, clawed, ripped and pulled him open, peeling his skin off, grasping handfuls of flesh to rip off the cold bones, pulling out noodly tendons, stomach ripped open and the intestines flopping over the knees, eyeballs plucked out the sockets, heart and liver flicked out, hair ripped from the scalp, and basically the hollow was turned inside-out.

A few other hollows attacked the mists with hands, rakes or shovels, or whatever they happened to have, and as they grunted or groaned, the mists ripped them open, pulled their guts out, plucked their eyes and hair out their bodies, and tore them asunder. Several more mists floated by, but the ghost light was beginning to be far away enough to barely cast any light at all; it was time to leave.

The Berenike knight, having forgotten bout her friend, turned around and looked for him. Sure enough, he was hopping from submerged tombstone to tombstone. Splashing water as he did so, following the light as best he could. Well, she jogged after him, running into the depths of the swamp carelessly and sinking waist-deep. She gasped.

"Ew! It's cold!" The knight squeaked; she turned around as best she could, seeing the mists flowing after her, but she was rather stuck.

Unable to move, and still feeling herself slowly sinking, the knight leaned over, grasping a nearby tombstone barely sticking out of the water, feeling the swampy liquid rushing into her armour, and attempted to pull herself free. Greasy skeletal arms shot out the swamp, grabbing her by the legs and arms, a few skulls bobbing on the water's surface as well. Regardless, the Berenike knight pulled herself out the wet ground, hearing the water flushing and splashing about.

Feeling silly to be hopping about like a child playing at a pond, the Berenike walked along the tops of sunken gravestones, surprisingly holding her weight, but a few of them did sink a bit. She slipped once in a while, but managed to stay balanced. The ironclad soldier was perhaps twenty metres ahead, doing much better than the Berenike knight, perhaps due to his turtle background. The ghost light continued floating away.

The Berenike noticed skeletons popping up from the depths, covered with yucky green and sometimes peat, but their legs were stuck in the mud, thus they could not move very far. They lashed out at the knight, bony arms clicking against her armour, trying to grab her, to drag her down and drown her, but she was too heavy in so much armour. She simply continued stepping and hopping, sometimes skeletons who grabbed her losing an arm or hand or two if they refused to let go when she jumped.

Some hollows, who had ran passed the demonic mists, ran after the knight, many running into the water, where skeletons grabbed them and pulled them under. Some skeletons pulled while lifting themselves, appearing out of the water for a moment before their weight dragged the hollows down. The few that accidentally ran over the submerged tombstones slipped on them and fell down, floating atop the water for a second and then grabbed by many bony hands, and pulled underwater to disappear.

The skeletons did not look troublesome at all! The Berenike knight hopped along, armour clinking and shuffling, water splashing, shield bouncing around, blood leaking, and then, suddenly, a rather big skull popped out of the water. The skull was perhaps two fee tall, and then a pair of arms appeared out of the water, each arm seven feet long or more with huge hands, swampy things dangling from the skeleton. The giant skeleton swiped at the knight; she instinctively swung her mace into the incoming arm, momentum causing her to slip and fall, landing on her bottom atop the tombstone she was on.

Immediately, a dozen normal-sized skeletons appeared nearby, most only barely sticking their skulls out the water, and they grabbed the knight's armour where possible. The giant skeleton leaned forwards, huge mandibles grinding, and he grabbed the Berenike's leg and dragged her towards himself. The knight's leg fell into the water, but she leaned backwards to prevent herself from sliding inot the water completely, kicking at the giant skeleton pulling on her leg.

The giant skeleton shoved himself forward, rickety bony frame leaning over the knight, and then he got a mace to the forehead, skull cracking. The giant skeleton's skull vibrated for a second, and he paused; a second vertical strike busted the forehead open. The giant skeleton shook his head, and then started pummelling the knight, bony hands smacking into her armour, hard enough for her to feel blunt force trauma, but overall the skeletons were too old, too soft, and too weak to really do any significant damage to an armoured foe. The other skeletons swarmed the knight, many grabbing her armour, but failing to drag her anywhere despite their numbers.

The Berenike knight, irritated, swung her mace sideways with a short shout, knocking the giant skeleton's jaw clean off his skull; it plopped in the water somewhere. He looked at it fall, and then put a huge hand over the Berenike's face, trying to gouge her eyes and scrape the face. After a brief moment of sharp pain, the bony fingers scraping her fleshy undead face, the Berenike knight swung her mace into the elbow of her attacker, breaking it.

The giant skeleton slammed his remaining arm downward onto the knight's face, hurting her mouth and nose. With her free had, she grabbed the giant skeleton's hand and ripped a finger off, and then another, and another. The giant skeleton leaned further over her, intending to bit her neck, but then remembered his jaw was missing. The Berenike headbutted the giant skeleton, cracking the forehead even more, and then lifted both legs into the bony beast's chest and kicked him away.

The Berenike knight clumsily got up, ripping the bony arms off herself. The giant skeleton returned, leaning over her, thrusting his one arm out to punch her, so she slammed her mace into the incoming fearlessness fist, and broke the knuckles asunder. The giant skeleton headbutted the knight in the breastplate, staggering her, but she quickly bent both knees to regain her balance, and smashed the giant skeleton's skull apart with a mighty horizontal swing. After her mace went whoosh, the big fella fell over and sunk.

Noticing that hundreds of skeletons were rising from the swamps, but a vast majority stuck in it, the knight looked around, saw the metal turtle hopping around, and did likewise. It seemed that the earth perhaps forty metres away was hard, as in that area, most tombstones were on solid ground.

"Just a little more, a hop here, and hop there..." The ironclad soldier mumbled to himself, hopping along, completely forgetting about his friend, who got used to the awkward situation, walking and jumping faster and better than before.


	20. Ignition - Too many skeletons!

**Ignition, part 4**

 **Too many skeletons!**

The ironclad soldier made one last jump, going off the last tombstone, nearing the ledge of earth. He landed on the edge, just enough to stand on it for a moment before falling backwards into the swamp with a mighty splash between two tombstones. Fortunately, his shellplate was big enough to sink down to the submerged ground yet keep his head above the waters surface. The turtle lied there on his back, trying to squirm, limbs bobbing, water rippling, and kicking causes splashes, but he could not get anywhere. Good thing that the section of swamp he fell in was not very deep.

Immediately, several skeletons' arms shot out the water, grabbing the metal turtle and intending to pull him down, but, as usual, they failed miserably and completely. The skeletons then tried to climb the soldier, though their legs remained jammed in the swampy earth for now. All the bones could do was rattle, click and scrap against the ironclad's armour.

The ironclad turtle wholly ignored those annoying bony legged flies. He just sea-sawed sideways, splashing water everywhere like a small child in a tub, and after perhaps a minute, managed to roll over, great weight falling onto a few skeletons and crushing them deep in their watery graves. Feeling water flushing into his helm, the ironclad stood up, and then felt the water flow out the eye holes and joints of his armour.

Slowly but surely, the Berenike knight neared the ironclad, jumping from gravestone to gravestone as he had done. The glowing red blood made her easy to spot even in the blackness. She was not as graceful as the metal turtle, but at least she did not fall over. Nearby, more and more skeletons bobbed along the waters surface here and there, but most of them could not move very far. A few skeletons did manage to free themselves and crawled through the water, unable to swim very well. They reached the Berenike knight once she was mid-jump, lashing at her with their bony hands, but why were they even trying?

Upon landing, the knight balanced herself, bent both knees, and started grabbing the skeletons' arms with her free hand, and yanking them up, plucking off their arms as if they nothing more than the petals of a flower. She pulled off several arms this way, and then decided to keep jumping. She reached the last gravestone, the same one the ironclad jumped off, and she quickly leaped off of it.

The knight did not jump far enough, and her breastplate struck the ledge of earth with a thud and splash. Both arms over the edge, legs kicks frantically, and breathing audibly, she gradually picked herself up, and then crawled forwards away from the ledge.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, a giant skeleton sprang out of the water, splashing everywhere, and huffing angrily, somehow (perhaps the rib cage or skull held a spirit or ghost?). He grabbed the knight by the legs and dragged her backwards towards the water. The ironclad sprang to action, running forth as fast as he could—which was not very fast at all—and flopped forwards over the giant skeleton's forearms, ramming them into the earth and holding them there.

The Berenike knight turned around and crawled a short distance, and stood up. She saw the ironclad lying over the giant skeleton's arms; the big bony beast angrily pulled his arms back, but they did not go anywhere. The giant skeleton then frantically headbutted the ironclad, but just busted its skull open against his shellplate. The Berenike knight charged, jumping atop her turtle friend, standing on his back, and swung her mace downwards into the giant skull, shattering it apart down to the jaw, sending bits of skull and teeth flying everywhere, even hearing it clink against her armour and bounce against her face.

The knight stepped off her friend, standing before the ledge, seeing many skeletons gradually crawling towards them through the water. Amidst so much rippling and gently splashing, perhaps a hundred skeletons or more crawled underwater within a few seconds. She turned around; the ghost light was almost out of sight, disappearing beyond trees and its light soon disappeared. But she did not want to flee from a fight. With her free hand, she rubbed her face for a second, and then flicked her hand, flicking the blood outwards so that it landed on some skeletons, the drops of glowing blood revealing their location.

The turtle man-at-arms picked himself up and hurried for a second, but then noticed the Berenike knight did not follow, so he turned around. She stood her ground, swatting the horde the skeletons as they climbed out the swamp, shattering their bony frames and sending the prices flying off to the sides repeatedly; many plopped into the water as splinters.

"The light is going, we must also." The ironclad said with his lumbering voice.

"I will not run from a fight." The Berenike knight replied; three giant skeletons approached her, crawling through the swamp while keeping their heads underwater.

The ironclad looked around, but could not see much; it did not seem that the demonic fog was anywhere here, perhaps unable to cross the water? He could only see the knight's glowing blood pouring down her armour, and his own Red Tearstone effect also acted as a light nearby him. He heard the animated skeletons rippling through the water, and the giant ones splashing their way, only to then hear the sound of metal and bones crush against each other.

The Berenike knight held her mace with both hands, and simply smashed into anything that moved, shattering skulls, rib cages and spines with ease. The giant skeletons smacked at her, staggering her, but she remained firmly on the spot. She swung into an incoming hand, breaking it; one of the other giant skeletons push-kicked her in the head, causing her to lose balance and stagger backwards, but she did not fall.

The knight quickly unslung her giant shield, resting its bottom on the ground and hiding behind it. She heard the giant skeletons crawl out the swamp, one of them slamming its hands and forehead into it; she instantly pushed her shield forth while walking forwards, pushing it backwards back into the swamp. The two other giant skeletons flanked her at the same time and started stomping at her, the stomps nudging her. She stuck her shield out to the side, feeling a stomp slam into it, and then charged the giant skeleton to her right, trampling a few normal-spied skeletons in the process.

The giant skeleton she charged was in the instance of push-kicking her, but she ran between its legs and delivered a downwards, overhead swing, breaking its pelvis, causing the legs to criss-cross for a second before the giant heap of bones fell. She then quickly struck the back of its spine and snapped it as if it were a dried stick, and the beast fell apart, but the upper half was still animate, crawling with its arms, using them as legs. The knight basically knocked the skull off its shoulders and that was the end of that. She then quickly bashed apart a few ordinarily skeleton, mace travelling through their arms, collarbones and rib cages—whoosh!—and they broke apart.

Stepping over his broken friend, the other giant skeleton push-kicked the knight in the head, with such force that she fell onto her back, and then felt many skeletons crawling over her, like giant bony ants, clawing at her face and grasping parts of her armour.

The giant skeleton she had pushed into the swamp by this time had climbed out again, immense bony frame dripping water, and the ironclad soldier suddenly appeared, charging out of the blackness, ramming into the giant skeleton with his shoulder and head. All the momentum and mass sent the giant skeleton flying back into the water; the other one still standing turned and pummelled a fist into the back of the ironclad's head, breaking its hand upon hitting the helm. The turtle spun around, bear hugging the giant skeleton and then spinning to the side, throwing it atop the giant skeleton once again climbing out the swamp; both giant skeletons fell back into the marsh.

The Berenike knight rolled over away from the swamp, crushing the skeletons grappling over her, and she stood up on her own, and started smashing the skeletons down from her with mace and the bottom rim of her shield. She also kicked and stomped at the pesky skeletal critters, but their numbers seemed endless; they kept rising form the waters, grasping tombstones if near them, pulling themselves over the gravestones, and swam or crawled towards the armoured intruders.

One of the giant skeletons got up and trudged through the marsh, rearing and then slamming itself onto the turtle; he headbutted it as it came upon him, cracking the skull open. He then quickly grabbed the giant's skull with both hands and wrenched it off the neck, and threw it at one of the ordinary skeletons climbing out the swamp, the bigger skull knocking against the smaller skull, sending the skeleton back into the yucky water.

Several by several, skeletons crawled out the swamp, and those who approached the Berenike were simply swatted apart. The ironclad stomped and kicked at the skeletons, hearing their bones cracking against his clad legs. When they got too close, he would also uppercut into their ribs, push them away, and headbutt.

A few skeletons managed to swam the ironclad, scratching and grabbing at him for whatever stupid reason they had, so he spun around, smashing with the side of his shellplate, the greatly convex backplate striking with rotational force and sending the skeletons off their feet. One managed to not get hit, having walked around him, so the soldier grabbed the skeleton, picked it up, and threw it over a few skeletons climbing out the swamp.

The Berenike knight continued the fight, and seemed to have things under control, hitting with her mace, as well as using the rim and boss of her shield to smash with. Four more giant skeletons crawled through the swamp, mowing through their smaller brethren, sometimes even breaking them. One of the gigantic skeletons even grabbed a smaller skeleton and chucked it at the Berenike knight; she smote the projectile midair and destroyed it. The four giant skeletons spread out into two pairs, each duo approaching the armoured foes each with a dozen normal skeletons.

The ironclad got ready; twelve normal skeletons ran towards him with two giant ones crawling on behind. The skeletons lunged themselves, few by few, into the ironclad; he knocked them down with his fists, gauntlets clubbing them with enough force to crack or break bones. He bent over and grabbed a skeleton by the legs, and started spinning around, so that he used the skeleton he grabbed as a flail. Constantly spinning around, he knocked down all the skeletons swarming him, and then, as if in hammer throw, threw away the skeleton into a tree, where it broke apart on impact.

The two giant skeletons crawled at the ironclad and both struck him at the same time in the head, and then started clubbing him in the helm repeatedly while remaining in a crawling position. The rapid, repeated hammer punches somewhat dazed the ironclad soldier, feeling the blows shake his brains, and the constant clinking irritated him, however, his ancient armour absorbed the impact. Still feeling empowerment by the Red Tearstone effect, the ironclad soldier tackled into the shoulder of one of the giant skeletons, and the two grappled each other; the other giant skeleton continued striking the ironclad's helm. By this time, most of the skeletons he had knocked down got up and took turns attacking him uselessly whenever they could.

The giant skeleton who grappled with the ironclad attempted to pick him up, intending to drown him in the swamp, but underestimated the mighty weight of the soldier; he did not even budge! The soldier, not really knowing what to do, resorted to grabbing individual ribs and pulled them out, breaking them off one by one, feeling the bony beast struggle and the other one continuously clubbing him in the head with its hands, as well as the normal-sized skeletons trying to damage his armour with their hands.

Meanwhile, the Berenike knight had engaged her dozen skeletons, who immediately surrounded her and started smacking and scratching her armour. She spun around, swinging her mace through a few skeletons, and momentum causing her to twirl a bit, her two lengths of hair flowing like waterfalls of silk, and she backhanded with her shield once her spin lost momentum, knocking a skeleton down. After a few more wide swings, she destroyed most of the skeletons, and then the two giant ones crawled at her, pawing at her head; she braced herself, feeling blow after blow, and quickly raised her shield, feeling and hearing them pummel her shield.

The knight moved her shield to the side, putting it in the face of one giant skeleton, to keep it busy on that, and at the same time, swung her mace into the others skull, cracking it open, but it continued pawing at her head. A second smash destroyed its skull, and it became inactive and its skeleton became loose.

Moving her shield out of the way a bit, the Berenike knight swung her mace through the thigh bone of the standing giant skeleton, fracturing it, and a second strike broke it; the big bony beats fell over, smacking the knight repeatedly as it did. The knight stepped onto the fallen giant skeleton's rib cage and then started bashing its skull into the earth; it could only slap at her armour for a while before becoming inactive.

Noticing that her friend was in some trouble, the knight made her way towards him, armour shuffling and footfall heavy, trampling a few skeletons along the way. The ironclad, who had been grappling with one giant skeleton and ripping its ribs out while receiving hits from the other and the smaller ones, was becoming tired. He had to rest, leaning over the giant skeleton and using it as a stand; the other skeletons continued striking him without much progress.

The Berenike knight ran to the scene, running over a few skeletons and then hopping atop the giant skeleton grappling with the soldier, and not stopping monument in her running, she leaped off that giant skeleton and hit the other one midair with her mace, caving-in the skull at the eye socket. The giant skeleton punched the knight's face once she landed, causing her head to rear, so she returned the favour and destroyed its skull just as it was about to punch her again.

More and more skeletons crawled out the swamp, with several giant skeletons walking behind, sometimes stepping on the normal-sized ones if they were in the way. The Berenike knight and the ironclad soldier were both tired; the hopping and then fighting sapped their stamina, but they were not panting yet.

"There's too many, we can go on fighting them forever, but eventually we will become exhausted and they will drag us into the water. Let's get out of here!" The ironclad whined, and walked away, but the Berenike knight did not move, so he stopped to look at her. "We have to move, now!"

"No! I will not leave them the satisfaction of victory! I want to rip all of them apart!" The Berenike knight barked, setting the bottom of her shield down; leaning over to the right, she clubbed at a few incoming skeletons, cracking their skulls asunder.

"They're just skeletons, they can't think, they don't feel anything, dummy." The ironclad remarked as if the knight was an idiot; what a petty insult, but it pissed-off the Berenike knight and she swung her mace sideways with such force it broke apart three skeletons in one swing.

"Do you want to fight me again?" The Berenike knight threatened, turning around quickly, her two tails of hair swinging for a second.

"Give me your best shot, bitch!" The ironclad shouted, and beckoned her; the knight charged, and the ironclad ran away, and the Berenike pursued him for a second, but stopped.

"Ohhh! You just want me to run away from the skeletons!" The Berenike knight whined, and turned around to face the approaching giant skeletons eagerly, repeatedly hitting her mace and shield together, making noise to get herself into a frenzy, gnashing her teeth.

Then, suddenly, out of nowhere, several pillars of flame erupted from the swampy waters, forming steam and causing the water to boil around the pillars of fire. The ancient swamps had produced many gases over such a long time, which resulted in a fiery explosion. The Berenike knight hid behind her shield, feeling heat, smoke and steam rushing throughout her armour and face and flow around her; the ironclad soldier fell onto his back due to flinching and losing balance rather than anything else. They could not breathe, only inhaling smoke and stench, coughing from that.

The explosion subsided into flames; the swampy water was aflame in vast sections here and there. Many skeletons, big and small, covered with swampy much, became ablaze and began falling apart, but a small portion managed to press on and attack the knight. Coughing and wheezing, the knight fought back in the usual Berenike style, but most of the skeletons burned away, those still in the water sinking into the swamp. A few giant skeletons partly sunk, kneeling or paused in a crawling position as they burned away until falling apart, flaming bones sizzling as they plunged.

"Whoa! What the hell, that was the most craziest pyromancy I've ever seen!" The ironclad exclaimed, coughing smoke out the eye holes of his helm, rocking to and fro on his back, trying to get back up, overhearing footfall.


	21. Ignition - Therianthropy

**Ignition, part 5**

 **Therianthropy**

The swamp and its gases continued burning atop the water, casting enough light to illuminate the nearby area, flames causing shadows to flicker behind tombstones and trees. Some trees and shrubs close to the waters burned a little, but mostly just made smoke; the trees close to fire had bark covered with frightened facial expressions.

The Berenike knight turned around once no more skeletons were moving, wheezing smoke, walking away from the flaming swamp while slightly bent over. She wondered what just happened. She put her shield over her shoulders, so that its length of chain was across her front, and then helped the turtle get up with her free left hand. Although most skeletons burned apart, a few did continue moving through the water, but were too few to worry about.

The two armoured combatants trudged away from the water, looking for Little Onibi, but that ghost light was nowhere in sight. They did notice several patches of scorched earth, smoking and filled with embers; the pyromancer had summoned many pillars of flame to erupt from the earth as well, for whatever reason. The two combatants heard footfall, probably the pyromancer, but the fire-manipulator was far in the shadows, scurrying around frantically.

"Hello?" The ironclad soldier called, but there was no answer; the two overheard something audibly flying through the air overhead, often breaking through twigs and smaller branches, wings flapping loudly.

"Belfry gargoyles!" The Berenike knight cried, and soon, the flying thing flew off.

"Hunh?" The soldier exclaimed; the knight shook her head.

The Berenike knight flung her shield from her shoulders and got ready, looking up and around constantly, hearing the flying monster flapping here and there, movement causing smaller trees to shake, small branches and cones falling from that. Someone sprinted towards the two armoured characters, causing the two to look to the side. From the darkness, they saw two small flaming circles swaying to and fro within the shadows, as well as two small volumes of controlled flames smouldering on the sides; the pyromancer.

"I take it you two aren't hollow?" The pyromancer asked aloud with a growling voice and Scottish accent, running out of the shadows and into the light cast by the flames, and then it could be seen there was something clearly odd about him; he stopped before the two cap-a-pied fellows.

The pyromancer was tall, almost as tall as the ironclad soldier, and did not look human. The pyromancer had an animalistic furry head, possessing a muzzle with a leathery nose on the end, large pointy ears, and a wolf's tail dangling behind him; a werewolf? He was definitely cursed with two curses, both the Darksign and lycanthropy. He did not have eyeballs, eye sockets empty empty, but the rim of the eye sockets were encircled with a constant, gentle flame, like the flame of a candle but set in a circle, which had seared the flesh, skin and fur: the Darksign.

In his palms he held flaming orbs, the art of a pyromancer which allowed them to summon flames through their hands or summon them elsewhere. His hands became more skeletal towards the claws, the flesh having burnt away over many years of pyromancy, the palms blackened and wrists reddish, fur and skin burnt away there as well. The fingers ended with blackened claws.

The lycanthropic pyromancer did not wear much, just a kilt, tail freely hanging below it and the tip curling up after the bottom. The kilt was reinforced with chainmail threaded onto the cloth, forming a kind of simple armour, which did not jingle as loud as hauberks. The werewolf also wore hoses (tall socks) but no shoes, as footwear would block the claws at his wolf-feet; the claws at his feet stuck through the stockings. A sgian dubh was inside his left sock, slid into it.

Although undead, his natural brown coat was still covering his hide, and also served as some protection. He had a lean body, not muscular, but possessing the stamina of canines, he was undoubtedly very fast and very hardy despite his lack of bulk. He was armed with a claymore slung over the shoulder; the claymore had a braided leather cord tied at the ends of the cross-guard, allowing him to put it over one shoulder and let the blade dangle diagonally behind his back. At the right side of his belt was a sheathed highland dirk, and at the left was a buckler strapped to his belt.

"A werewolf? I thought they didn't exist here." The Berenike knight remarked, wondering how often lycanthropes were seen anywhere around Lordran and beyond, but never recalled seeing any.

"Well at least you're not trying to kill me!" The pyromancer said, and then looked up frantically once the flying thing returned, flight breaking through little branches and shaking smaller trees.

Hearing the raining twigs, the Berenike knight, the ironclad soldier, and the lycanthrope got ready; the pyromancer made a short growl, smoke flowing out his nostrils for a second, and the flames around his eyes and in his palms intensified.

"I love fighting gargoyles! I saw many on that cathedral, I hope there's lots of them!" The Berenike knight shouted, brandishing her mace for a moment, and then started striking her mace and shield against each other to make noise.

"It's not a gargoyle, it's a little dragon, and it's been trying to kill me for-for-for-forever!" The werewolf barked, trying to figure out how long he had been running away from it.

"You didn't fight him?" The knight asked disappointingly.

"Dragons can fly, I can't! It's never landed, it keeps on puking lightning and breathing fire at me, and always keeps its distance from me!" The werewolf shouted back while brandishing his fists like an angry toddler, slightly offended.

"Calm down, stop acting like a retarded teddy bear." The Berenike knight spat.

"Oh pfff, I am the greatest pyromancer since the Witch of Izalith, I could roast you inside-out if I wanted!" The werewolf bickered, ears pointing back.

At that, the dragon, who the Berenike assumed was a gargoyle, appeared; the dragon smashed through several branches, exhaling lightning and fire out its mouth as it did so, swooping overhead the three characters. The regurgitated electricity behaved oddly, slowly zapping here and there in a loose path along the inferno. The Berenike knight lifted her shield, feeling the electricity flowing through it and shock her insides; the ironclad felt much of the lightning surge throughout his body, his metal armour only amplifying the electric current.

The lycanthrope ducked and jumped out of the current of flaming lightning, running on all fours like a dog for a second. He heard the dragon whoosh through the air and turn around, hovering below the treeline but above the flaming, smoking swamp. The blazing bog illuminated the dragon, revealing that the dragon was unlike other dragons, and was even too small to be a drake.

The dragon had obsidian-textured scales, and was a few inches under six feet tall, an ordinary height in Dark Souls standards for most humans. The dragon had a bodily structure like that of a human, but with a dragon's head, six-foot tail, very long clawed fingers, and curved talons on the ends of the toes and behind the heel; the feet were greatly elongated at the forefoot. The creature had a twelve-foot wingspan, the wings protruding from the back of the shoulders. The draconic creature had two horns, four inches thick at the base, sticking out from the temples and curving upwards slightly for sixteen inches (the horns did look a bit oversized for the head).

Crowning the beast's head was a series of snow-white spiky appendages that pointed backwards, starting at the brow and covering the forehead, bushing around the horns, the top of the head, and hanging down to the waist. The draconic creature's spine and tail had a similar set of spiky appendages lining down the back and tail. The tail terminated into a sharp ten-inch fluke.

The draconic being hovered on the spot, clearly not a true dragon, but one of the Dragon Remnants: an individual who could transform into a draconic being. Considering the creature's narrow waist and wide hips, and a golden talisman resembling a small sun with long rays worn with a golden chain around the neck, the Dragon Remnant was definitely a priestess of some kind. By the looks of it, this cleric had transformed into a dragon and remained in that form for so long that she grew a pair of wings, a longer tail, and a large muscular neck, literally gradually transforming into an actual dragon.

The shedragon did not wear anything but her talisman; not that the absence of weapons and armour bothered her, seeing as she had natural armour and weapons already! Although not very big, she was a very muscular thing, not even her scales able to hide her bulging abs, thighs, calves, and biceps. There could be no doubt that this draconic cleric was physically powerful.

She hovered on the spot, limbs loose, opening her mandibles and exhaling a steady flow of fire for a second, feeling her inner fire heat-up her belly, esophagus, throat, gums and tongue, flames swirling around her teeth, sounding like a small furnace. She looked side to side, and opened her mouth again, breathing fire for a second, a few zaps and embers flicking out.

Suddenly, a few pillars of flame erupted from the earth, reaching perhaps a dozen feet up; the dragon noticed, feeling the fire warming her scales, but she instinctively writhed through the air for a second while flapping her wings rapidly, flying off to swerve away from the pillars. Although she was a fire-breathing dragon, pyromancy still could hurt her, and the pillars definitely blinded her sight.

The dragon swooped down at the werewolf, who threw to orbs of fire, one from each hand, and both hit the dragon with an explosion, burning her eyes and forcing her to shut them. The werewolf rolled off to the side as the dragon blindly swooped passed him, claws digging into the earth as she flew. Wings vibrating, she quickly gained altitude, wondering where the lycanthrope was; the werewolf had quickly climbed a tree and jumped off of it, landing on the drake's back!

The shedragon barked aloud, feeling the werewolf wrap his arms and legs around the scaly cleric's back and biting into her neck, but his powerful jaws could not quite pierce the scales. He was heavy enough to prevent the dragon from flying effectively, feeling the wings flapping with difficulty. The lycanthrope attempted to grab the wings and hold them down, so that the dragon could plummet, but the wings were powerful and kept flapping.

The dragon frantically swayed midair, the annoying wolf at her back and feeling torrents of flames continuously flowing out his palms, searing the scales where the hands had grappled over the beast's body. Irritated, the dragon flew higher, and then suddenly folded her wings and fell backwards. The werewolf was surprised, and then a second later, the dragon landed on her back against the ground, sandwiching the werewolf between her back and the ground. She crash-landed right beside a gravestone, which the lycanthrope stared at,wondering what would have happened if the dragon fell on that instead.

Hurt from the slam, the werewolf groaned; the dragon unravelled herself and crawled away, standing upright and spinning around; the Berenike knight charged the dragon. The draconic cleric leaned forwards with a mighty hiss, regurgitating flames form its belly and electricity out its mouth over the knight's shield. The knight ignored the fiery lightning and ran into the dragon, hearing her shield smack into its face; the dragon leaned backwards, not expecting that.

The Berenike knight swung her mace sideways, the mace audibly whooshing, but the dragon skipped backwards and flapped her wings once, wings thrusting her backwards a bit and so she dodged the mace. The knight charged again, lifting her mace overhead and bringing it down, but the dragon simply sidestepped and the mace sunk into the earth.

The dragon snapped her jaws at the Berenike knight's face, the knight hearing the saliva click on the gums and tongue, and then suddenly felt fire and electricity blasting over her face. She instantly spun around, backhanding her shield across the dragon's head and staggering her. The dragon clawed down the knight's backplate but did little; she spun to the side, seeing the ironclad soldier huffing and puffing his way towards her, so she exhaled fire mixed with electricity over him and he instantly ran off.

The draconic cleric suddenly felt something hit her back; the werewolf tackled into her, sending her off her feet and onto her front. The werewolf mounted the draogn from behind and unsheathed his highland dirk, and started stabbing it into the back of the dragon's head, though the dagger did not do much against the scales, so he bashed with the pommel instead.

The dragon lifted her head and opened her jaws, groaning with displeasure, trying to get up, but the werewolf's weight kept her down. Several skeletons had appeared and attacked the Berenike knight and turtle, so the two fought them; the soldier ripped them apart with his clad hands, and the knight shattered them with her mace. This gave the dragon enough time to start flapping her wings, but not at the same time, flapping one after the other, hitting the werewolf in the head with the inner side of her wings.

The lycanthrope felt the wings hitting him one after the other, and then the dragon managed to writhe forwards a bit, wiggling between the lycanthrope's legs, until she could rear backwards, headbutting backwards into the werewolf's lenghty nose. The werewolf attempted to grab the dragon by the horns and so hold her down, but she was stronger than him, and managed to crawl out of his grasp while flailing her powerful head backwards repeatedly, hitting with the back of her horns.

The dragon squirmed away, flicking her tail across the werewolf's face; if only he had eyeballs left, he would have felt much pain. The werewolf sheathed his dirk, and then unslung his claymore, brandishing it, palms glowing with fire and then the blade of the claymore became ablaze.

Out of nowhere, the turtle suddenly appeared out of the darkness, running between the two therianthropes. The ironclad soldier charged the dragon, intending to tackle into her midsection. She jumped up, flapping her wings one to gain altitude, and kicking her legs upwards to the sides while pushing the ironclad's head downwards with her hands, effectively hopping over him and he basically dove into the mossy dirt. In fact, his entire helm dissapeared into the soft earth and he became stuck. The lycanthrope charged, as did the Berenike knight, who finished-off the skeletons. The dragon, knowing that she could not fight two foes at the same time, ran away, flapping her wings powerfully.

"Don't let him get away!" The Berenike knight shouted, but that's exactly what happened; the dragon clawed her way up a large tree and jumped off it, gliding and then flying away upwards, breaking through small branches as usual and causing large ones to shake.

The pyromancer, holding his claymore in his right hand, formed a fireball in his left hand, hurled it, but it just hit a tree and set it on fire. The dragon turned in her flight, blasting electricity and fire out her mouth over the Berenike knight, who twitched from the electric current; the werewolf ran off to the side to get out of the way. The dragon got herself into a hover, took a deep breath, and started gushing out fire and lightning against, constantly and relentlessly over the knight. Feeling her armour and body surge with electricity and fire, the knight twitched, unable to move, and felt herself burning, hair smoking but not burning away as it was wet from the swamp.

The lycanthrope conjured another orb of flames and hucked it at the dragon, hitting her in the face and causing her to flinch. Then, a skull bounced off her head; she spun around, seeing a giant skeleton standing in the water, and throwing skulls and bones at the dragon. She dove at the giant skeleton, tackling into his head and taking his skull off, and it plopped in the water somewhere. The headless giant skeleton swiped its arms about furiously, but the dragon dodged him and flew away. The Berenike knight noticed that despite being harmed by electricity and fire.

"The undead fight the Dragon Remnant, too, he is not hollow." She said, zaps appearing around her jaw as she smoke, armour still smoking a bit.

"Hunh?" The turtle asked aloud, finally pulling his head out the ground; the dragon returned, flying from above while puking electricity and fire out as usual, carpeting the ground below her.

"Oh my gawd! How much shit can that thing spew out!" The knight shouted out in frustration, stampnig on the burning ground for some stupid reason, feeling even her bones shake from the electric current, skin feeling like a vibrating bush or something.

"Now you know why I had a problem!" The werewolf shouted back; the dragon swooped by again, carpeting the ground yet again with fire and electricity, but the knight and lycanthrope ran off to avoid most of it.

The ironclad soldier grabbed a nearby little tree with both hands, and ripped it out the ground.

"Ah hah!" The soldier shouted aloud, brandishing the shrub in his hands; now he was unstoppable!

Suddenly, out of nowhere, a belfry gargoyle fell from above, landing atop the ironclad soldier and pinning him against the ground with such force that pieces of earth flew around everywhere; several tops of trees and many branches also rained around when the big beast dove through them. The gargoyle resembled a demonic dragon, armoured in partial bronze armour on the torso, head, top of the tail, limbs and top front of the wings.

This gargoyle was more heavily armoured than those of the past, wearing a complete breastplate and backplate of solid bronze. The backplate had large openings on the sides to allow the wings to pass through. The gargoyle also wore a winged helmet, greaves, rerebraces, vambraces, gorget, and demi-gauntlets (so that the claws could pass through). It had an elongated, pointy chin. It did not have much of a face, mostly its jaws taking up the space of its skull. It had a large tail terminating into a battleaxe, and it wielded a halberd and round shield. It was perhaps four times larger than a gorilla.

The belfry gargoyle kept its head low, breathing and snorting lightly, as if sleepy, the swamp burning and smoking behind him, and then suddenly shot its head up and opened its jaws, making a powerful hissing roar; he definitely meant business!


	22. Ignition - Belfry Gargoyle

**Ignition, part 6**

 **Belfry Gargoyle**

The belfry gargoyle (or bell gargoyle or bell tower gargoyle, whatever you prefer) having just pinned the ironclad soldier into the earth moments ago and then making its hissing roar, charged forth, running on all fours like an ape, legs running with the forefoot, but it had gripped its halberd with both hands, held it sideways, and run with it by placing it on the ground when it had to. Battleaxe-tail wagging, jaws open, and breathing eagerly, the big gargoyle charged the werewolf, but the Berenike knight suddenly appeared from the blackness, tackling into the gargoyle.

The bell gargoyle did not expect to be attacked by a Berenike knight out of nowhere; he recalled seeing at least a small number long ago in the Undead Parish, who had attempted to scale Sen's Fortress, though a few remained behind, or perhaps they escaped that booby-trapped tower when they realized it was hopeless. Anyways, the Berenike knight rammed her right shoulder into the galloping gargoyle, momentum causing her to slide backwards, but she bent her knees and braced herself; neither could overcome the other.

Despite wearing heavy armour, and holding a giant shield and a big mace in her hands, she placed the front of her shield into the underside of the gargoyle, pushed her right armoured knuckles into the back of the shield, and by pushing the shield upwards, lifted the stony beast and then flipped the gargoyle over herself; he landed with a crash on his back, wings, tail and limbs flailing. The knight quickly spun around and swung her mace downward overhead while lifting her knee for a moment, but the gargoyle, despite being so huge, rolled out of the way and was on his feet immediately. He stood up, but his back was bent, shield and halberd ready to be used.

The knight put her shield in front of herself and charged, armour shuffling and clinking; the gargoyle swung his halberd downward overhead, the axe of the halberd going over the top of the shield and the shaft striking the shield; the gargoyle pulled his halberd backwards while turning the torso, pulling the shield out. He the gargoyle then smashed the knight in the face with the rim of his shield, rim entering the open-faced steel helmet and smashing into the teeth and nose, staggering the big cap-a-pied Berenike girl.

The gargoyle gripped his halberd with both hands (the hand that gripped the handle of the shield also went over the shaft of the halberd), and quickly swung the fluke side down, intending to puncture the knight's helmet and pierce her brain. However, the knight swung her mace into the incoming halberd, heads of both weapons striking midair with a clang, and she knocked aside the halberd; it bounced down to the ground. The knight then dove her head into the gargoyle's midsection, and started striking his left leg with her mace. The gargoyle curled his left wing over his side to shield his leg, and then flapped it outwards, somewhat pushing aside the mace as it swung at his leg.

The gargoyle immediately head-butted the Berenike knight in the helm, both helmets clanking against each other; the gargoyle, being much larger, dazed the knight for a moment, and then he swung his shield as if throwing a hook punch and hit the knight in the side of the head, but the Berenike's armour's protrusive rim that covered the side and back of her neck absorbed most of the impact, but it did make her lean to the side and her shield lowered, opening her up. The gargoyle hopped up while flapping his wings, push-kicking with both legs midair into the pauldrons, staggering the knight.

The gargoyle landed with a crash, and was about to trample the knight, but the lycanthrope threw a fireball into the side of his head; the gargoyle spun around with a grunt, and galloped towards the werewolf, who summoned a wall of flames to appear before him, but the gargoyle just ran through it, ready to decapitate the lycanthropic pyromancer with his halberd.

The werewolf gripped his claymore with both hands, his blade still flaming from casting a fire spell into its metal, coating it with fire, and he leaned into the swung halberd, blocking it by swinging his blade into the shaft, so that the blade also struck the gargoyle's fingers; the sudden pain and burst of heat caused the gargoyle's grip to loosen and so much force was lost; the shaft hit the werewolf but did little again his mail-covered kilt. The werewolf then lunged his claymore under the chin of the gargoyle, piercing its rocky hide, but not by much.

The gargoyle hissed and snapped his jaws overhead the werewolf, who saw it coming and ducked, going on all fours like a doggy, and escaping by crawling through in-between the gargoyle's legs as it leaned forwards to take a bite. The gargoyle swung his battleaxe-tail side to side for a second, but the werewolf rolled out of the way, for the kynanthrope was quite quick both bipedal and quadrupedal.

The ironclad soldier by this time managed to pick himself up, gripping the little tree he uprooted to use as an improvised weapon, and he trudged towards the gargoyle, the flaming swamp still alight; there was enough burning gases to keep the fire going for a long time. The Berenike knight also trudged her way towards the gargoyle. The gargoyle paused, looking side to side, realizing he had to face three opponents.

The gargoyle shrugged, turned around, looked up, and barked loudly, fire briefly belching out its mouth; after a second, three more bell tower gargoyles appeared, swooping down through the canopy and breaking through many branches and smaller trees, crashing into the earth nearby and hissing. These three gargoyles were similar in appearance to the first, two were smaller, one brown and the other black. All three newly arrived gargoyles were equipped in some bronze armour, halberds, and round shields. The three gargoyles huffed, breathing fire for a second.

"Heeya!" The ironclad soldier shouted, throwing his tree at a gargoyle; the piece of thin timber bounced off a black gargoyle's face, and did nothing.

"Ya, throw a stick, like that's gonna do anything." The pyromancer remarked with that Scottish accent of his.

"I have no weapon." The ironclad mumbled.

The four gargoyles looked briefly confused; were they supposed to keep fighting? The three gargoyles who just appeared separated, the two brown ones charging the pyromancer and ironclad, and the larger one charging the Berenike knight with the first gargoyle. The Berenike knight charged back at them, immense steel frame clicking and shuffling as usual; when she got close enough, she rammed her shield into one gargoyle, feeling a halberd hitting it, and pummelled her mace into the other gargoyle's halberd to knock it aside.

The knight's two opponents started bashing their shields into the knight's front and back, as well as grip their halberds farther up the shaft to make it easier to hit with the heads. The knight lifted her shield to cover her left side, to constantly block with it, so that the shield always faced the second gargoyle, and her mace always confronting the first one. Feeling her shield getting pummelled by shield and halberd, and the first gargoyle doing the same into her helm and breastplate, she could only fight minimally, swatting her mace when able back at her attacker. The two gargoyles also sidestepped here and there, and so did she, so that her shield always faced one gargoyle and mace ready to fight another.

Meanwhile, the ironclad soldier met his gargoyle foe, who swung his halberd at the ironclad's helmet; the ironclad slapped the polearm aside and then tackled into the gargoyle in the instance of receiving a shield bash. The soldier grappled with the gargoyle, bear-hugging it, lifting it up, and throwing it aside; he then jumped atop the gargoyle as it was picking itself up, wrestling with it on the ground, the immense weight of the metal turtle, especially his shellplate, too much for the gargoyle to regain himself quickly.

The ironclad managed to put both hands onto the gargoyle's shoulder,s holding the rocky beast down while headbutting it repeatedly in the face, the ironclad's helmet cracking the teeth. The gargoyle, receiving multiple armoured headbutts, began breathing fire constantly, but that did not stop the ironclad soldier, who felt the flames rush through the eye openings of his helm, but he did not give-up easily, and also felt the gargoyle bashing, punching and pushing with its shield and shaft.

As for the werewolf, meanwhile he threw a fireball out his sword (somehow), which hit his charging gargoyle right in the face, though that did not stop the gargoyle, who jumped up, wings flapping, intending to drive its halberd down and chop the lycanthrope asunder. The werewolf's Darksign (forming a ring of flames around the empty eye sockets) and flaming hands made him quite easy to see despite the darkening of the world, and so that made him noticeable.

As the gargoyle's halberd descended, the werewolf did not roll away; he hopped forth, pointing his claymore upwards diagonally, parrying the halberd, so that the shaft of the halberd slid down it and hit the earth. The werewolf then put his left hand on the blade of the claymore, skeletal hand gripping it and making clicking sounds on the flaming blade, and letting go of the handle with his right hand, swung the claymore down while gripping it by the blade, swinging the pommel down onto the gargoyle's helmet. The pommel struck the gargoyle's helmet with such force that the blade vibrated and ringed, leaving a dent in the bronze helmet and giving the stony ape a headache.

The werewolf then, with his free right hand, intensified the flames in his palm, and summoned an inferno that engulfed the gargoyle; the gargoyle skipped backwards with a flap of the wings, evading the inferno, and then diving onto the werewolf, pinning him to the earth. The gargoyle lifted his halberd, about to ram the butt-spike into the lycanthrope's skull and kill him, though he quickly regained his claymore and swung it across himself into the forearms of the gargoyle as it stabbed downwards; this stifled some momentum, giving him an eye blink's time to writhe sideways and dodge the butt-spike, which rammed into the earth.

Irritated, the gargoyle growled into the werewolf's face, the stony thing's mouth filling with fire and ready to belch flames. The kynanthrope then sat up while quickly lunged his claymore into the gargoyle's mouth, stabbing as far as into the spinal cord, flaming blade briefly bursting with more fire, and then kicking the gargoyle in the side of the head. The gargoyle, surprised upon receiving a sword in the mouth, reared back and spun around, whipping its tail across the werewolf's head and knocking him down.

"Ouch, that's gonna leave a mark." The lycanthropic pyromancer mumbled.

The gargoyle gripped his polearm with both hands and swung it downwards; the werewolf quickly rolled over and crawled away on all fours, as fast as wolf, and stood up. He scanned the situation, noticing that the ironclad was still wrestling with his foe on the ground, the Berenike knight fighting the two gargoyles on her own in typical Berenike style, and some skeletons waddling their way out the swamp; a few giant skeletons were in the background, crawling through the flaming bog and going towards the earth while keeping their skulls underwater.

The Dragon Remnant cleric reappeared, perching on a tree, to rest her wings. The shedragon did not expect to see gargoyles, and was unsure of what to do now. She watched the fight below. One of the gargoyles fighting the Berenike knight noticed the dragonoid, but did not really care, and continued hacking away at the knight's greaves and shield, trying to get her off her feet, but the mighty knight did not fall; she managed to club the first gargoyle in the face, and then bash back the second gargoyle with her shield.

But there was no time to look at the scenery for long; the werewolf faced his gargoyle, who was charging furiously, every exhale releasing little torrents of flames. Forming an fiery volume floating before him, which also hid him from sight, the pyromancer pushed it forwards while gripping his claymore, and the extreme heat caused the charging gargoyle to slow down and hesitate, as well as blind him. The werewolf then literally ran through his own wall of flames, jumped forth, and managed to swing his blade across the gargoyle's neck, blade exploding with flames upon impact, definitely hurting the rocky monster. The werewolf skipped away.

The gargoyle gripped his halberd loosely, so that when he swung it, the shaft slid up his hand and he held it by the butt, maximizing reach to hit the agile lycanthrope, but the pyromancer, who was also obviously a swordsman, gripped his sword by the handle and blade and held it so that the tip pointed down, stepping forth and blocking the shaft of the polearm, and then quickly gripping his claymore with both hands by the blade and smashing the cross-guard across the gargoyle's jaw. He then ran off to the side, dodging another swing of the halberd; the volume of flames he summoned moments ago, still floating forwards, flowed upon the gargoyle. Distracted by the flames, the werewolf manged to run away behind a tree. Running out of the fiery wall, the gargoyle pursued the werewolf, trampling over trees and shrubbery.

The ironclad soldier continued wrestling with his gargoyle, firmly mounted atop the monster and keeping it pinned to the earth, also trying to disarm the gargoyle, but the damn thing was quite powerful in the hands and arms, and refused to let go of its halberd. The soldier managed to grab the gargoyle's shield by the rim with both hands and started bashing it in the beast's face. The gargoyle flicked its tail upwards, hitting the back of the ironclad's helm, but his greatly globular backplate was in the way and absorbed most of the impact.

The Berenike knight was in the most trouble, having to fight two large gargoyles at the same time, both of whom kept circling around her, hitting her in the leg harness, arm harness, shield, and helmet at every opportunity. Keeping her shield raised to constantly protect one side, hearing and feeling the halberds striking it, the knight got pissed-off and charged the first gargoyle suddenly, quickly and powerfully. The weight of herself, her armour, and arms, tackled into the gargoyle and staggered him; she quickly swung her mace upwards in an underhand manner, striking the gargoyle under the jaw, causing it to crack and snap shut, lower teeth cracking against upper teeth sharply and audibly.

The knight swung again sideways, swinging with such force that she literally spun around. The first gargoyle leaned backwards to avoid the mace, and as the Berenike knight revolved all the way around from the rotational force, she backhanded her shield into the second gargoyle, who rushed her from behind, her giant shield smashing him aside but he managed to stay on his feet. Both gargoyles spread apart, they both instantly swung the spiked side of their halberds down upon the knight now that she finally opened herself. She quickly raised her shield so that it was positioned horizontally above her head, which the halberds struck and bounced off, and keeping the shield like that, jabbed the bottom rim (which was pointing forwards) into the first gargoyle's face, but that did little.

Both gargoyles exhaled flames, and the Berenike knight soon felt fire swirling into her face and through the gaps and openings of her armour, causing her to jump from the pain. Furious, the knight screeched with her powerful raspy undead voice, and threw her mace at the first gargoyle; the head of the mace struck the gargoyle in the front of the helmet cleanly, knocking him down to his ass, and the mace fell down nearby. The knight then held the grip of her scutum with both hands, lifted it, and then brought the bottom rim down upon the gargoyle's head, smashing it against the ground.

Feeling the second gargoyle pummelling her backside, the knight ignored that, and jumped atop the gargoyle she knocked down, and started repeatedly smashing his head into the ground with the bottom rim of her shield, as well as stomp on his armour, but stomping into his breastplate did not do much. The second gargoyle charged again, flapping his wings and wagging his tail, and tackled into the Berenike knight's back with his shoulder, her glowing blood flicking forwards and hair swaying, and she face-planted the ground, dropping her shield as well. The first gargoyle rolled over and got up, and then the two gargoyles, noticing that the knight was face-down flat on the ground, crawled to her and breathed fire over her while smashing their halberds and stamping their feet onto her.

The ironclad soldier noticed his friend in trouble; he was punching the gargoyle he mounted repeatedly, but the persistent thing refused to give up, breathing fire, flailing limbs and tail, snapping its jaws, and writhing non-stop, but to no avail. The ironclad got up, and then slammed his back backwards over the gargoyle, bodyslamming his backplate and all his weight onto its head; the gargoyle kicked its legs and lower torso upwards from that.

The ironclad soldier rolled over, got up, and, huffing and puffing, ran across the scene, trampling over a few skeletons who got out the flaming bog, and then speared his pauldron into the back of the second gargoyle, taking it down to the ground. The first gargoyle spun around to see what just happened; the knight rolled over herself and kicked the second gargoyle in the balls, stunning him. She then clumsily tried to pick herself up, but the second gargoyle punched his shield into her helmet several times until her back was against the ground; the gargoyle stepped over her, knelt, and began bashing the shield into her helmet while regurgitating fire over her.

The ironclad soldier, bear-hugging the gargoyle from behind and not letting go, noticed vast volumes of flames igniting many trees; the werewolf had ran into the wooded section of the graveyard, and whenever the gargoyle pursuing him went after him, the trees getting in his way and slowing him down, and even making him stuck, allowing the pyromancer to summon volumes of flames to erupted beneath the gargoyle's feet, setting alight trees, plants, and burning the stony beast.

Tightening his grip and squeezing the stony hide of the beast, the ironclad soldier reared his shoulders, literally throwing the gargoyle backwards over himself, so that the gargoyle landed on the back of its head and rolled over its shoulders, neck damaged, dropping its halberd from pain. The soldier then ran forwards and kicked the gargoyle in the throat and head repeatedly. The gargoyle grabbed the soldier's legs and pulled them towards itself, tripping him.

The soldier quickly sat up and punched the gargoyle in the face repeatedly, feeling it breathing fire over him, but pain and heat was something he was used to. The gargoyle finished exhaling flames, feeling gauntlets striking its face, and then the gargoyle lowered its head and head-butted the ironclad, but that did little. The ironclad put an arm around the gargoyle's head and then wrapped his legs around its waist, putting it in a guillotine choke; if he could not suffocate it, at least he would keep it down.

The bell tower gargoyle formerly fighting the ironclad soldier by this time got up and crawled towards the fighting nearby, noticing the Dragon Remnant, and presuming her to be an enemy, galloped to her, jumping into and breaking the tree she was perched on; down she fell, but she landed on her feet like a cat. She instantly leaned over, hands on the sides of her mouth, and blasted lightning and fire out her mandibles, the flaming electricity coating the gargoyle, whose body began making zaps.

Nevertheless, the gargoyle ran on, leaping at the shedragon and swinging his halberd down upon her. To his surprise, the draconic cleric parried the incoming halberd with her horn, writhing her bulging muscular neck so that the horns knocked aside the halberd, and then she latched onto the gargoyle's front, arms, legs, wings and tail wrapping around his torso, and she started gnawing on his neck. Although gargoyle hide was as hard as rock, the teeth of dragons was as hard as diamond, and the dragon sunk her teeth through the stony hide and quickly tasted blood. The dragon, still keeping her jaws locked, regurgitated flame and electricity, filling the gargoyle's throat with fiery lightning. The gargoyle hissed and tried to get the crazy bitch off himself, feeling his insides suffering the effect of fire and electric shock.

Meanwhile, the pyromancer continued rushing through the woods, easily running amidst the trees, but the gargoyle's large size, wings and tail kept hitting trees, thus slowing him down, giving the werewolf enough time to cast his flame spells. He kept throwing volumes of flames at the gargoyle, or summoned pillars of flames to engulf the beast from below, even the monster's bronze equipment beginning to bend, and its hide began to crack and splinter here and there; in return, the gargoyle often blasted torrents of flames back at the pyromancer, but the agile puppy would just run away.

Hide steaming, the gargoyle rampaged through the trees while breathing fire and receiving pyromancy spells. The lycanthrope stopped casting magic, his skeletal hands constantly on fire, and he focused his magic into his sword, and the flames turned yellow, blade slowly becaming a cherry color, the heated metal glowing in the darkness. The fire coating the blade intensified, so much that it turned blue and audibly burned.

The gargoyle, blasting fire furiously and writhing through the trees, eventually charged the werewolf, leaping at him, wings flapping, tail curling up, mouth still exhaling flames, and swung his halberd sideways. The werewolf obviously ducked, going on all fours like an animal, hearing the halberd whoosh overhead, and then felt the gargoyle pummel his spine with its shield. The werewolf stood up, swinging his claymore backwards, so that the back edge hit the gargoyle's left forearm, cherry-hot glowing blade cutting through the stony hide and entering the arm, stopping halfway through.

The bell gargoyle howled from pain, feeling its bone fracture, but he kept holding onto his shield, weakly, but surely. Noticing that, the kynanthrope quickly grabbed the gargoyle's shield with one hand and wrenched it out the beast's grip, now wielding it in his left hand. The gargoyle swung its halberd in one hand at the werewolf, who stepped forwards, moving his gargoyle shield over to his right side and blocking the halberd. He then quickly put his shield underneath the pommel of his claymore, and thrust the sword upwards into the gargoyle's chin, blade piercing the damaged stony hide and entering its head.

The gargoyle made a light hiss, grip loosening on its halberd, and then kicked a clawed foot into the werewolf's stomach, but his mail-clad kilt were not pierced. He pulled the sword out and then quickly swung it sideways with so much power that he spun around; the gargoyle was decapitated, and fell over lifelessly.

"One down, three to go!" The werewolf shouted in triumph.


	23. Ignition - Marshy Mayhem

**Ignition, part 7**

 **Marshy Mayhem**

Having beheaded one gargoyle, blood gushing out its severed neck, the werewolf spun around and ran towards the flaming marsh, seeing big skeletons crawling out of the flaming mucky waters. He scanned the area with his empty eye sockets, rim flaming, and saw the shedragon chewing away on the gargoyle she bit, still latched onto her targeted gargoyle, who managed to curl its arms behind the Dragon Remnant, grab her by the back wings, and slammed her down into the ground. The dragon huffed from the impact, but much of it was absorbed by the soft, wet ground.

The gargoyle then stomped into the cleric's abdomen repeatedly; she lifted her arms and legs, joints bent, and started up-kicking back at the gargoyle's stomps. The gargoyle then swung his halberd down, but the cleric caught the weapon by its blade as well as up-kick into the shaft to stop the weapon from splitting her face. She pushed the halberd aside, head tossed aside, but the gargoyle still held the shaft. Snarling, the gargoyle then bit at the dragon, jaws snapping, but she presented her horns, which got in the way, preventing the gargoyle from biting the draconic cleric. She then grabbed a fist-sized stone that happened to be nearby and threw it into the gargoyle's mouth, which landed in the back of the throat, giving it a distraction.

The lycanthrope did not care about the cleric's struggle, and left her alone to fight on her own. He ran around them to help the two cap-a-pied combatants, but one of the giant skeletons suddenly dove at him; he dodged its huge hands by pouncing on his front paws and twirling away. He then quickly faced the giant.

"Come and get me you big dumb bony faggot!" The pyromancer shouted, raising his claymore in one hand and with the free hand beckoned the giant moving bones.

The giant skeleton's jaw shuffled side to side, and then charged and pursued the werewolf pyromancer, who ran away while launching fire at the crazy skeleton, flames striking its skull as the beast clicked its teeth together repeatedly, its immense toes digging into the earth as it pursued the werewolf, each step pounding and sinking into the soft ground, sometimes stepping onto or over tombstones.

The shedragon and the gargoyle she fought looked at the werewolf casting fire magic as he ran, the gargoyle also trying to get the stone out its throat. The giant skeleton grabbed a gravestone with both hands, ripping it out of the earth, and then threw it at the werewolf, who dodged it by running on all fours for a second; the bony beast ran after him, crushing through smaller trees, bark making grimaces and disappointed expressions. It seemed that the demonic fog avoided light, as it was nowhere near flames.

The shedragon then quickly rolled backwards halfway over her shoulders and muscular neck, and lifting her legs straight up, flipped herself onto her feet; upon getting back onto her feet, the gargoyle had already swung his halberd sideways, having spat out the rock in his mouth, but the dragon dove into his midsection and so only the shaft hit her shoulder. The gargoyle punched with his shield, hitting the cleric straight in the mouth, bronze shield clicking against her teeth, and staggered her. The gargoyle then push-kicked the shedragon in the nose, causing her to fall backwards, but she stuck her wings out, edges poking into the earth, and stabilized her.

The gargoyle huffed, and then inhaled sharply, and breathed fire at the shedragon, so she returned the favour, and did likewise. The two fuming volumes of flames, as well as electricity from the dragon, met at such close range, but little happened. The shedragon charged, literally sprinting while exhaling fire, running through the gargoyle's blasting flames and jumped onto him, hands grasping his helmet, and clawed feet resting on his thighs. Both of them continued exhaling their fiery masses at point-blank range, the gargoyle turning around a bit while clubbing his shield into the dragon's back and side. Both winged combatants ran out of breath and they stopped exhaling, now both breathing deeply.

The gargoyle titled its head and snapped its jaws once, trying to bite the dragon, but her horns were always in the way. Dropping halberd and shield, the gargoyle grabbed the dragon at the sides, and then powerful threw her away. She did not expect that, but nevertheless landed on her feet. The gargoyle retrieved his halberd and shield, and presented the spearhead forth, so that if the dragon tried to grapple with him again, she'd just walk into the spike.

The gargoyle walked towards the dragon. Every time she tried to fight, he'd just stab into her and push her back; if she passed the polearm, he punched with the shield and then kicked at her, keeping her at bay. He wanted to drive the Dragon Remnant into the dense trees, so that she'd be unable to escape, but she just lowered herself, knees bent all the way, and jumped up, wings vibrating like a hummingbird's, and she took flight. The gargoyle jumped up at her, also flapping his wings, swinging her halberd up through the air, but was not high enough to hit the draconic cleric.

The dragon flew up higher and higher, wings moving into branches and breaking twigs, and then hovered above the treeline, mouth becoming a little fiery and zappy, and so the gargoyle expected her to blast electric fire again. Instead, she suddenly dove at him; in return, he jumped up at her, and the two met midair. The dragon tackled into the gargoyle, diving in-between its halberd and shield and her horns stabbing into the monster's face. The gargoyle fell backwards from that, thudding against the earth, but at the same time, he kicked both legs up into the dragon and flipped her over himself; she landed on her back and wings this time.

Both got up at the same time, panting heavily, but the dragon, being much smaller and more agile, managed to dive into the gargoyle's waist again before he could react. She also knocked the front of her horns into its face repeatedly, which did nothing but irritate it a little. She then hopped onto the gargoyle, so that her legs wrapped over its thighs and clawed hands clenched against its front, and bit the wound on the neck farther open by snapping her front teeth at the edge of the hole, and then pulling it open. She felt the gargoyle clubbing her back and side with its shield, as well as punch with the shaft, but that did little.

Suddenly, the shedragon rammed her hand into the wound she gnawed open earlier, fingers straightened and close together so that the claws acted like knives, forcing her forearm into the gargoyle's neck like a parasitic worm writhing into a hole in flesh, until she could grasp the spinal cord in the neck, feeling the discs and poky bones, and then pulled on the spinal cord. The gargoyle dropped his halberd, and with his free hand, curved it over the dragon's back and grabbed her by a horn, wrenching her head to the side, but she refused to let go. She started blasting electric fire again, and the gargoyle also breathed fire out, some of the flames spurting out the hole in its neck.

The cleric excitedly breathed in and out but stopped exhaling fire, feeling her teeth and tongue zapping constantly, she nearly wheezing and squealing, and then pulled her arm out, ripped out a segmented length of spinal cord out the gargoyle's neck, the bones white but bloody, covered with stretching meat, veins, and the esophagus drooping over. The gargoyle, gurgling, fell over; the shedragon continued ramming her arm into the hole at his neck to pull out more meat and bones like a savage, uncontrollable crazed animal.

Meanwhile, the ironclad soldier continued choking his gargoyle, and the gargoyle could not escape yet, the two locked in a stalement. The Berenike knight remained on the ground face-down while two gargoyles struck her repeatedly with their halberds, though bronze could not pierce tempered steel easily! She managed to get onto her hands and knees, feeling her body shaking from the impact of the polearms, and then she suddenly flailed her head backwards, headbutting with the back of her helmet into the less-armoured gargoyle's crotch just as he was about to deliver an overhead swing. The armoured gargoyle looked sideways briefly, as a giant skeleton, bony frame flaming from the fuel-like swamp, just arrived and swiped its arms at him repeatedly, clawed hands smacking into his armour but the force knocked the gargoyle over.

Four more giant skeletons crawled to the scene, but, oddly enough, they remained on their hands and feet, like giant apes, while opening and closing their jaws repeatedly and looking around pointlessly. The knight took the chance to roll over, dodging a polearm of the gargoyle she headbutted into the groin, and then quickly grabbed her shield, and tightened her grip on her mace. She felt the gargoyle leap onto her, landing atop her pauldrons and breathing fore over her head! She felt the flames flush her face and flow inside her helmet, but her hair, soaked form her own spilling blood and sweat, did not catch fire and only steamed.

The knight quickly swung her mace into the gargoyle's opened mouth, arm and mace passing through the torrent of flame, and the mace struck the monster's teeth. The gargoyle made a deep squeak from pain and stopped breathing fire, rearing his head. The Berenike knight then kicked the beast into the crotch, and then a fireball arched over her and hit the gargoyle, causing it to stagger as it coincidentally slipped on the wet ground. The knight got up, realizing that the gargoyle was fighting the giant skeletons, giving her a chance to catch her breath.

The armoured gargoyle, which was the one that first appeared, utilized the length of its halberd, swinging into the crawling giant skeletons' skulls and arms, and whenever they swatted their arms at it, the gargoyle just flapped his wings while jumping, and would breathe fire down upon them while midair. He then landed atop one of the quadrupedal skeletons while ramming the butt-spike of his halberd into the back of its neck, dislocating the spinal cord and ending it, and then swung its halberd while spouting fire like crazy at the three other crawling beasts to keep them at bay. Whenever the crawling giant skeletons swung their paws at the armoured gargoyle, he would just slash at their arms with such force that he spun around, swinging his battleaxe-tail as well, keeping himself moving in circles while breathing fire to combat the multiple opponents. There were several normal-sized skeletons, but they were swatted aside like bony flies.

The draconic cleric was still having fun ripping the gargoyle's throat open, the scaly girl covered in its blood, and looking happy. The werewolf was still being harassed by the giant skeleton chasing him, though the larger trees slowed the giant down. It was quite easy to notice the werewolf, as his hands, eye sockets and sword were obviously blazing with fire. Noticing that the ironclad soldier was in a stalemate of strength, the knight ran forth, armour shuffling and clinking, and tackled into the gargoyle, knocking him off the ironclad's guillotine choke with such force the rocky beast dropped his halberd and shield with a grunt.

"Gargoyle skin is too thick to choke them." She said to him, picking herself up, and then raising and slamming her shield into the gargoyle as it tried to pick itself up; she then repeatedly clubbed it with her mace.

The ironclad grasped the gargoyle halberd with both hands, rushed forth, and, pushing aside the Berenike knight rudely, stomped one foot into the gargoyle's groin, causing it to slightly sit up and raise its knees with a screech, and then thrust the butt-spike into the gargoyle's sternum while bending his knees and sinking his body, applying as much mass into his attack as possible. The bronze spike pierced the gargoyle's stony hide but bent from doing so, and could not deliver a killing blow. The gargoyle whined, and blasted fire out its mouth while flailing its limbs, tail and wings vapidly, but the ironclad soldier kept the beast pinned down.

Soon, the gargoyle kicked both legs into the ironclad's upper portion of his breastplate, off-balancing him, and then it managed to jump to its feet, spinning around and swinging its tail at the Berenike knight who charged it. She blocked the tail attack with her shield and rammed the front of it into the gargoyle, who grabbed it with both hands at the sides. The stony monster then pushed the shield down and bit over the knight's helmet, but its teeth could not pierce the steel. Instead, the gargoyle, keeping jaws locked over the steel helm, exhaled flames, sending it swirling into the knight's armour; she danced on the spot from the intense heat, even letting go of her weapon and shield.

The ironclad soldier quickly swung the gargoyle halberd at the gargoyle, blade hitting it in the side of the head, and then he quickly lunged the spearhead into the monster's face, pushing it off the knight. The gargoyle quickly grabbed the shaft with both hands and held it aside, and then breathed fire upon the ironclad soldier, who quickly felt the flames fume through the eye holes of his helm and burn his face. But he was a resistant fellow, and pushed the gargoyle backwards, but it managed to take back its halberd, gripping it with both hands and giving the soldier a hiss and stomping one foot into the ground, exhaling fire stopping. The monster snapped its jaws once, teeth audibly clicking. The werewolf continued casting fire at the giant skeleton hot on his heels in the background, and the shedragon could be heard ripping away at gargoyle tissue, now forming a puddle of blood with streaks of blood flicked everywhere.

The gargoyle galloped angrily, wings flapping, picking up altitude a bit. The knight and soldier charged back at the same time, the Berenike knight ramming with her shield and the soldier tackling, and they hit the gargoyle at the same time, knocking it over. Taken to its back, the gargoyle swung his tail side to side, hearing the bladed appendage hit into the legs of the two armoured combatants, but did little against their greaves. The knight dropped her shield and gripped her mace with both hands, jumping atop the gargoyle as it tried to pick itself up; he presented the spearhead of his polearm, but the spike just slid across the knight's breastplate, and she fell atop him.

Armoured legs pinning the gargoyle down against the ground, the knight delivered vertical chops into the gargoyle's face repeatedly, mace crushing its helmet and teeth in. After a few hits, the gargoyle became twitchy, rocky hide flaking apart, skull fracture in many areas, with blood and cerebrospinal fluid trickling out. The flanges of the mace hitting the monster poked multiple holes in its head, and the knight swung her mace with the greater vigour upon that thought, hearing the flanges splatting, squishing, crushing, and splitting, flicking blood out everywhere. She also heard her own blood leaking down upon the gargoyle, and held her hair shaking wildly.

The knight delivered one last swing, mace striking the gargoyle's skull hard enough to bounce off and cause the knight to lose grip of it. She fell on her knees, hands pressing against the gargoyle's front, and she breathed heavily, hands twitching within her gauntlets. She then noticed she had mashed abut half the gargoyle's head, most of the brain spilled over the edges of the shattered the skull.

"I think it's dead." The soldier remarked, causing the knight to look at him.

"Well, what the fuck did you think?" She exclaimed quietly, nearly out of breath; the soldier shrugged, and noticed a half-naked hollow run by and then away stupidly and randomly.

The two armoured combatants looked around. The armoured gargoyle was still fighting the undead, taking on the flaming swamp's horde by himself, halberd breaking through normal-sized skeletons easily, chopping through the arms and legs of the bigger ones, and the hammer side cracking holes in the crawling skeletons' heads. He also kicked, breathed fire, and punched with the boss and rim of his shield, as well as swing his tail around to and fro to sweep into the legs of those approaching him from behind. Obviously quite huge himself, the gargoyle could probably fend-off the undead on his own easily.

The werewolf reappeared, a giant flaming skeleton chasing him; the flames loosened the body enough for the skeleton to appear like it was about to fall apart. He turned around, and the giant skeleton push-kicked at him, so he quickly chopped its foot off, and then swung across both the skeleton's forearms, cutting through one wrist but not the other. The giant skeleton regained itself with its good foot and the stump of its other dismembered one. It then bent over, so the lycanthropic pyromancer lowered his shoulders and ran forth, swinging her claymore vertically and splitting the pelvis asunder; the giant skeleton collapsed on itself.

"About time you killed that giant skeleton." The knight remarked as if the werewolf was an idiot; she walked to the side to retrieve her mace and metal scutum.

"Well it's already dead." The pyromancer replied; neither he nor the knight understood what the other meant.

The three of them took a few seconds trying to catch their breath, but it was obvious that the lycanthrope would regain his stamina sooner. The shedragon bent over and sniffed the gargoyle, finally realizing it was dead. A giant crawling skeleton, having went around the armoured (and last) gargoyle, charged her, running like a retarded skeletal puppy. The dragon lifted an arm up, and conjured a lance of lightning that somehow formed in her hand, six feet long, and she threw this like a javelin. It struck the quadrupedal giant skeleton in the middle of the skull, went through it, and then dug through the spinal cord, and broke the skeleton apart; the bones separated zapping like crazy.

"Ha, Praise the Sun." The Berenike knight said calmly, blood spattering out her mouth as she spoke; she was happy to realize she remembered something as mundane as that phrase, and it caught the shedragon's attention.

"Don't say anything, you'll make him attack us again." The werewolf grumbled, but the draconic cleric just stood where she stood.

"Pff, there's three of us, one of him, and only one gargoyle left, and he's over there." The ironclad soldier rebuked, pointing at the armoured gargoyle, who seemed to have forgotten about his previous enemies and was now occupied with the undead emerging form the flaming swamp.

The dragon just stared back blankly; the ironclad soldier, the Berenike knight, and the lycanthropic pyromancer stood their ground, ready to defend themselves, but the Dragon Remnant did nothing. As undead, perhaps she remembered something about praising the sun?


	24. Ignition - Somewhere Along a Path

**Ignition, part 8**

 **Somewhere Along a Path**

"So you're friendly now, right? Good! Come on, I won't hurt you." The ironclad soldier remarked, walking towards the dragon; he seemed to be the the most open to friendship, save that he was not giving gifts like Petrus or Pate, so he must be legit.

"I wouldn't trust him so soon." The werewolf warned, overhearing the gargoyle busting open the skeletons, and then the Berenike knight looked at the armoured gargoyle, wondering what should be done about him.

There was a large break in the clouds, and the moon shown in the cloudy night sky. The moonlight beamed down the openings in the canopy, illuminating things like mushrooms, bark, grass, tombstones, and whatever happened to be under. In such blackness, moonlight was like sunlight, and the dragon stared at the moon as if mesmerized by it.

"A shining disk of white, with an aura made of night; the sun had yet to come, and then the hunt begun." Whispered the cleric, her voice having a strong growling effect due to the immensity of her neck, but it was high-pitched enough to note, mixed with the animalistic growling of a dragon's throat.

"Oh yeah, now I remember. Praise the Sun, it means it, uh, well, it was about a knight, who praised the sun, or something like that. Right, his name was Solaire of Astora, I remember him, I think." The Berenike knight mumbled, resting the bottom rim of her shield down, feeling her eye sockets, mouth, nose and ears leaking blood as always.

"Never heard of him, reminds me of solitaire." The werewolf remarked, crossing his arms and looking around with those flaming eye sockets of his.

"He journeyed to Lordran, as did I with the other knights like me, but, um, something happened, but I can't remember what. Well, all I know is that Berenike and his knights, me included, we went somewhere, but then, then, eh whatever, something happened." The knight continued, but unable to recall what happened, decided to stop talking.

"Never heard of Lordran either, I come from Drangleic, but I never had a home, I was born on the go somewhere in Forossa, don't remember exactly where though. As if becoming undead was bad enough, I got the curse of lycanthropy, too." The werewolf mumbled, though his lycanthropy was probably what saved him from the many dangers in this world.

The ironclad soldier stood before the shedragon, and put a hand forth, for her to shake. She noticed and looked at the opened gauntlet, but did not know what it meant. She lifted her head and stared back at the soldier, though the Red Tearstone effect was no longer active in his eyes. She breathed slowly, in and out like a little dragon, but did not understand the gesture, so he let his arm drop down, vambrace clicking against a fauld.

At that, the dragon remembered something, and clasped her left hand over her amulet hanging around her neck. She lowered her head, as if to look down at it, but having a muzzle in the way, she could not see anything. She felt felt the amulet in her scaly hand, feeling the sun symbol's rays poking into her palm. She probably kept it to remember something about herself, but could not remember much. What was her past? Her last memories?

Looking around, the Berenike knight watched the gargoyle make a mess of the undead horde, and then she said, "Well then! Enough talking, back to fighting!"

"Wait!" The soldier cried, running into and then grabbing the knight's pauldron before she could walk away, "Leave him be."

"Hunh? No! I never run from a fight!" The knight rebuked, rolling her shoulder free, the werewolf looking around and wondering if he should attack the shedragon or not, gripping his claymore tightly, skeletal hands and knuckles cracking against the hardwood grip.

"He's busy with them, if you fight him now, you're just interfering with his match. Don't disturb his fight! He chose to fight them, and you must respect his decision." The ironclad soldier assured, which got the knight's attention; she looked back and forth between the armoured gargoyle and the soldier.

"Yeah, you're right, I won't attack his back, even though he and his friend ganged up on me. I will not disturb his fighting." The Berenike knight remarked, relaxing, but she looked directly into the ironclad soldier, "But you and me, we have a score to settle, and someday, we will settle it." She assured, leaning into the soldier.

"I'll be ready." The soldier promised with a nod.

"You better be. Now, what the hell are we gonna do now? Where's the light ball that was floating around?" The knight asked, but it seemed Little Onibi was long-gone now.

"Ghost lights are common in swamps, pyromancers see them all the time, they're just lights." The lycanthrope mumbled, keeping an eye out on the draconic cleric, who remained staring at the moon like an idiot.

"Well, what about that demonic fog? Know anything about them?" The ironclad soldier asked, but the pyromancer shrugged.

"I don't know anything about the fog, but they stay away from fire and light, and since my hands and eye sockets are always flaming, they don't bother me, mostly. Don't let the fog enshroud you, the demons inside the possessed fog will rip you apart, skin you alive, tear you limb from limb. I just climb trees when I'm tired, the fog cannot get too high most of the time, unless it's cold, then the mist rises up the trees. I once had to jump from tree to tree to escape the fog. But at least the fog cleans-up the hollows and skeletons that run around here. If you play dead, the fog might also leave you alone, I think they are only attracted to living things that move." The pyromancer explained, scanning the area with his flaming empty eye sockets, but the demonic fog remained amidst the shadowy gravestones and trees beyond the flickering flames.

"I had a feeling that the demonic fog was afraid of light. She and me ran after this ghost light for some reason, I don't know why, I just wanted to be near it, and it saved us." The ironclad soldier mumbled, not really knowing what to say; he still felt lost.

"Good thing you ran away from them then, they'll swirl into your armour, go under it, and rip you open inside-out. The possessed fog is just to be avoided unless you have light. Speaking of light, they also avoid moonlight, something that scaly bitch is gawping at like a retard." The werewolf remarked, and then decided that his sword was not needed, so he concentrated for a money, and the blazing blade subsided, and the blade cooled down; he then slung it over the shoulders, feeling the cord rub against his kilt.

"Hey! You hypnotized or what? Close your mouth before a bee flies into it." The Berenike knight called while turning her head to look at the dragon, who stood with her mandibles partly open, tongue slightly hanging out the side.

"You know how it is with them clerical folk, they are superstitious liars, they fool gullible idiots for a living. Anyways, what's up with you? Your blood glows and leaks constantly." The werewolf said, crossing his arms; the gargoyle in the background and rattling bones sounded in the background louder than usual, but the undead and the gargoyle gradually disappeared into the shadows and trees during their combat.

"I don't know. I remember patrolling this area for some reason, it felt like a dream, and then I realized I could bleed glowing blood, and then heard something, found this weirdo, we fought, and now here I am." The Berenike knight replied.

"Your glowing blood is probably what kept the possessed fog away from you while you were hollow. Do you remember how you regained your sanity?" The pyromancer asked.

"I think we should find a safe place before we talk, more gargoyles could come." The ironclad soldier butted in.

"Well good! I want to fight!" The knight nearly shouted, blood spattering out her mouth, briefly lifting her mace and shield.

"We need to find a place to call our home, a base, so that we can control an area and have a strong defensive position. That's the most important. We can then find other undead who still have their minds under control, and build a small army. We have to forge our own tribe of warriors, otherwise, we will remain lost, and a handful of powerful invaders can take us out. We've regained our senses, we might as well do everything we can to keep it." The ironclad soldier said, and he probably made a few good points.

"There is a cathedral at the other side of the swamp, but I couldn't find a way in, the double-doors are blocked from within I think." The werewolf said.

"We just came from there, we hopped across the swamp atop the gravestones." The ironclad soldier remarked.

"You hopped across tombstones? In all that armour?" The pyromancer asked, tilting his head.

"Yeah, I have great vitality." The soldier assured; the gargoyle roared, blowing fire, and whipping his tail to and fro at the skeletons surrounding him.

"OK, whatever. There is a ruined parish at the next swamp, but it's submerged in it, and the undead rule it last I check. If we're quick, we can outrun the demonic fog and head for the treetop village, I know where it is, but the whole place is falling apart, so your heavy armour will make you break through the treehouses for sure. Various ruins dot the swamps here and there, which we can use as vantage points. There is also a river that flows through mountains, leading to an open ocean. But I came from the mountains, they're too dangerous, full of dragons, they'll just swoop down and pick you up, feed you to their babies. The dragons even catch giant fish, sharks and whales, and sea monsters. I've seen them dive into the ocean just for that. That's probably why I haven't seen any ships for so long, a single dragon can sink a carrack, if he's big enough." The werewolf explained.

"Sounds like you've been around." The Berenike knight remarked; a skeleton was hurled into the air and broke against a tree nearby, but no-one cared.

"Yeah, that's one good thing about my lycanthropy, I can sniff out anything and run all the time without getting tired, heh heh. Oh, right! There's a stone tower somewhere, but it'll be a long walk. I never went inside, it looked too suspicious, but it seemed abandoned. We can go there if you want, make it our base as you planned." The pyromancer said.

"That'd be a great place to start, let's go!" The ironclad soldier said; the werewolf sniffed around and then walked away, and the two armoured combatants followed.

"Hold on a sec, you coming?" The soldier said, stopping and then turning to the side, referring to the shedragon.

"She tried to kill me for so long, now you want here to come with us?" The lycanthrope remarked somewhat disappointingly, he and the knight stopping; as usual, the gargoyle loudly fought the skeletons and giant ones in typical gargoyled fashion.

"I think she's regained her memory, she is like us, lost and confused as most undead are, we need all the help we can get, together." The soldier assured, and then walked to the dragon.

"More talking?" The knight asked.

"Guess so." The werewolf remarked, he and the knight watching the soldier approach the draconic cleric, who continued gazing at the moon and even drooling.

Unexpectedly, the ironclad soldier grabbed the shedragon, threw her over his pauldron, her legs over his front, and walked with her. The dragon grunted in displeasure, kicking and hissing, wings fluttering, tail swiping, talons clicking into the soldier's breastplate, claws scratching against the immensely convex backplate, and her amulet dinging about. She also breathed her volumes of fire mixed with electricity, even turning her big neck to try and burn her grabber, but he held her firmly.

"Go ahead, breathe fiery lightning, tire yourself out, I won't let you go." The ironclad soldier assured, and off he walked, following the werewolf who was now the guide, the Berenike knight keeping guard; and they left the scene, leaving the gargoyle to fight the skeletons, big and small, crawling out the flaming swamp to his heart's content!

The dragon was quite troublesome, but as the soldier predicted, she exhausted herself from her furious flailing of the limbs and blasting fire and electricity, but could only aim behind the soldier, or blast her volumes of fiery lightning down his shellplate, but that did little. She also outstretched her wings and grabbed branches and trees, attempting to pull herself free, but the soldier was too strong. Nevertheless, she continued kicking and hissing vapidly, but soon could be heard panting with a dry mouth, nostrils smoking a little, and teeth zapping.

After perhaps an hour of walking through gravestones, they left the graveyard, the werewolf opening a rusty, creaking gate of a metal fence and passing on. The dragon grabbed onto the gate, closing it as the soldier walked, but she did not have the strength to pull herself free, snorting in annoyance. They then continued walking, down an overgrown mossy stone road, which led through the moonlit forests flanking the path.

While they walked, they had passed through vast walls of demonic fog amidst trees, but they did not get too close, intimidated by the pyromancer's flaming hands and eyes, and somewhat the moonlight whenever it shone through breaks in the cloudy sky, and perhaps a little nervous about the knight's glowing blood, which dripped down to the ground wherever she walked, leaving behind glowing spots as she went. One mass of demonic fog swirled near a few drops of glowing blood, as if to wonder what it was, but never went over it.

The shedragon did not stop moving and making noise, afraid of the fog herself for she knew what it was capable of, but her dried throat caused her hisses to sound more like hollow whimpers and was quite pathetic to hear. She become even more frustrated when the werewolf and two armoured combatants chuckled at her futile noisy behaviour. The soldier sometimes tightened his grip, squishing the dragon to squeeze the breath out of her.

"What a brat!" The knight remarked aloud while chuckling, her voice raspy and ghostly, but the laughter was obviously noticeable; she had put her shield onto her back, so that the chain was over a pauldron and hung like that, but carried her mace with both hands lowly.

"Having fun there, big guy?" The lycanthropic pyromancer called as he moved through bushes and trees arching over the road; he had withdrawn his dirk and used it as a machete sometimes, hacking apart annoying branches, vines, trees and whatnot in the way.

"I think she's about to run out of energy, she's not moving as strongly as she used to." The ironclad soldier called back, the draconic cleric tugging at branches like an annoying oversized child, but her chances of escaping the soldier's ironclad grasp was getting worse and worse.

Panting heavily, the shedragon's body soon became loose, arms hanging over the soldier's backplate, legs and tail hanging over his breastplate, her wings drooping over the pauldrons, and shoulders low. She gradually let her thick muscular neck hang over as well, panting with white breath visibly flowing out her reptilian mouth, feeling pathetic, just watching the ground and feeling his armour shuffle as he walked. She then made a big rude yawn, feeling cool air flow through her tongue and teeth. She thought that maybe the soldier's grip would loosen now that he knew she was tired, so she would wait, and wriggle free when the soldier did not expect it and put his guard down. So there she lied while being carried, obsidian scales shimmering beneath the moonlight whenever it shown.

"So, you're sure you know where you're going?" The knight asked.

"Yes, I've been wandering these swamp for so long, it feels like forever, I know a lot." The werewolf replied, overhearing a hollow running towards him up ahead.

"Huhhh hunhh huhuhuhuh!" The half-naked hollow man exclaimed, running down the road, wet bare feet tapping against the mossy stones as he ran.

Once close enough, the werewolf simply beheaded the annoying zombie with his dirk, and that was the end of that. For a few minutes, zombies ran by, few by few, but were no match for the knight and werewolf, who made short work of them. The knight would swing her mace into the charging hollows' heads, and the mace moved through the heads as if they were water. The pyromancer also cast smaller fiery projectiles a few times, just to scare off larger groups of hollows, as well as to frighten the demonic fog when it floated too closely.

"Heh, you know, it feels good to have some company for a chance." The lycanthropic pyromancer remarked, just to end the silence.

"That's why I wanted to bring this bad boy along, he's not as insane as a hollow, we can use his help." The soldier said, obviously not yet realizing that the dragon was female.

A hollow ran in from the side, so the knight head-butted her, sending the half-rotten, half-naked zombie to the ground with a broken skull. Another hollow appeared, running from behind the ironclad soldier; the shedragon heard, lifted her head on the end of that long neck, and she briefly spurted fiery lightning at it, and the hollow fell over, twitching while zapping and smoking. The dragon huffed triumphantly. She then felt the soldier toss her up a bit, to regain better grip on her.

"How much does he weight? I hope he's not too heavy for you." The knight said.

"Hah! My mace was heavier than her! Too bad I lost it, I really don't remember what happened to it. Us ironclad soldiers, we had giant two-handed man-sized maces, which we needed to break the legs and knees of the golems who attacked us. Once we snapped their knees backwards, they'd fall over, and we'd crush their skulls in! But, well, we lost. I tried to reach Royal Captain Drummond, who I overheard had ran below somewhere as he was injured. I wanted to save him, but that giant golem as big as a tower grabbed me and threw me into the ocean, and that's when I dropped my mace, but it fell to the floor. How did that golem king even get inside the city?" The soldier said, drifting to memories, that flushed back and provided him comfort.

"You were thrown into an ocean?" The werewolf asked.

"Yeah! I sank, but I made it back ashore by walking along the seafloor, and then climbing up the cliff side. I even retrieved my mace, but then got hit by an exploding bomb or something hurled by a trebuchet. I recall seeing someone, a mercenary maybe, but I can't remember what he or she looked like, but the golem king was killed by that mercenary. What a mighty battle it was! Then I got hit by another giant bomb and blacked-out." The ironclad soldier replied.

"Too bad I wasn't there, I'd love to fight giant golems. Oh, and giant bombs, yeah, I remember those, I recall giants throwing them at me, they were firebombs about five times larger than me. I think I was hit by one and the blast sent me flying over a wall, then I fell down somewhere, but I can't remember what happened afterwards." The Berenike knight remarked, thinking about her past memories, when she had to fight giant snake-men and avoid bladed pendulums, somewhere she did not yet remember.

"Hunh, I don't even remember anything, but maybe as you two keep talking, my memory will refresh about something." The werewolf said nonchalantly.

They continued talking about their various adventures, walking along the path, with only blackness and moonlight to guide them.


End file.
